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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29445516">You Have Until Midnight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descarada/pseuds/Descarada'>Descarada</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Cinderella AU, Cinderella Elements, Eskel Has a Big Dick (The Witcher), Expect other Cinderella elements, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier is basically Cinderella, Like a cruel step parent, M/M, Major major found family vibes, Minor Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Pining, Rimming, Top Eskel (The Witcher), Yen is basically the fairy godmother, You can fit so much found family in this baby, alternative universe, and discussions of the death of a parent, discussion of past Tissaia/Vesemir, slaps hood of this fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:42:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>55,516</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29445516</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descarada/pseuds/Descarada</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaskier works in the Kaer Morhen stables and pines for Eskel.  There is a masquerade approaching where Eskel will choose a spouse. Jaskier knows he cannot attend as a guest and would never be accepted as an appropriate match for the witcher. But then he is faced with an unexpected opportunity. One lovely night. One dance. That’s not too much to ask, right?</p><p>----<br/>Eskel pushed open the door of the stable and at the sight of his dark hair and scarred face, the stableboy felt as though someone had released a thousand butterflies into his gut. A stupid, involuntary grin spread on his face. </p><p>You see, the stableboy loved Eskel.  As far as he was concerned, Eskel was more beautiful than anything else in Kaer Morhen. He was more lovely than the groves of pines surrounding the keep. He was more breathtaking than the view from the eastern balcony at sunset. </p><p>He was patient. Kind. Funny. Easy going. When Eskel was around, life felt softer. Safer. Or maybe Jaskier was just better able to bear its hard edges in Eskel’s calming, competent presence.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>But the only central romantic pairing is Eskel/Jaskier, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Essi Daven &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Essi and Jaskier are siblings and that is extremely central to the story</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>541</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>394</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Once Upon a Time in Kaer Morhen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/DovaBunny/gifts">DovaBunny</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>NOTE ON SENSITIVE THEMES PLEASE READ: This fic deals with marriage matchmaking for the purpose of reproduction in order to avoid the extinction of witchers. If the theme of reproduction itself is triggering to you, please take care with yourself before deciding to proceed. Also, a premise that involves reproduction can be sensitive for gender related triggers. I have done my dead level best to be gender inclusive in the language I use as I tell this story in the context of a vaguely medieval time period. But please proceed with caution and if you have any concerns, please let me know. I will be nothing but appreciative of your input, and will tag as needed.</p><p>CONTEXT DETAILS OF THIS: In this AU, the attack on Kaer Morhen was thwarted. The witchers received an anonymous tip in the nick of time and were able to prevent it. Realizing how vulnerable they were to a genocide, witchers realized they needed to reproduce to become stronger as a people. With the help of The Lodge, they have solved their problem of fertility, and once a year they hold a masquerade to find spouses with magical gifts from noble families.</p><p>I hope you enjoy! xoxoxo</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The morning sun struggled, as it always did, to cut through the fog that clung to the towers and balustrades of Kaer Morhen.</p><p>A single rooster crowed valiantly, though there was only one person in Kaer Morhen still asleep. And he was in the stables, of all places.</p><p>Two witchers stood over the slumbering form of the stableboy. The young man was curled up like a large hairy babe in a pile of dirty straw, next to a bored looking goat.</p><p>He didn’t normally sleep in this late, but he’d spent most of the night with his teeth clattering so powerfully in the cold that it was a miracle he hadn’t cracked them. Now that the air was warmer, his body was making up for lost time.</p><p>One witcher had wild copper curls and a plenteous beard, and he made tsk’ing noises as he shook his head slowly. “He slept in the stables again.”</p><p>The other witcher had white hair, black armor, and sternly crossed arms. He studied the scene. “Why, I wonder? Problems at home maybe?”</p><p>The redhead was called Lambert, and he looked at the other witcher with incredulity on his freckled face. “You fuckin serious, Geralt? You don’t know why he does this?”</p><p>Geralt dropped his arms to his hips and looked around the stable, squinting. “Ah. Lil Bleater got hurt. He’s babying that goat again.”</p><p>The goat did have a crisp white bandage wrapped around its torso. It was the only clean thing in the place, even including the long lanky sleeping man, who was grubby and smelled worse than the goat.</p><p>Lambert rolled his eyes and snorted. “Sure. He just really loves the goat.” He shook his head. “You ought to thank the gods every day that you’re pretty.”</p><p>“What?” protested Geralt.</p><p>Geralt acted affronted by the designation of pretty boy, through truth be told, he secretly liked it. There were worse things witchers were called. Monsters. Affronts to the gods. Pretty wasn’t so bad in the grand scheme of things. And he had taken a little longer on his hair that morning.</p><p>Lil’ Bleater made true to her name just as Lambert nudged the stableboy’s knee with his boot.</p><p>“Hey. Jaskier. Rise and shine, cupcake.”</p><p>The nudge, along with the piercing bleat of the goat, sent the stableboy sitting up with a jerk. His eyes were crusted closed and hay clung to his cheek.</p><p>He rubbed his eyes. “Fuck.” The hay fluttered down from his cheek, leaving angry red crisscross indentations. His blue eyes shone bright though the dirt on his face. His loose, low cut tunic twisted around his body. He yanked it forward and pouted. The sight was charming, though neither witcher would admit it on penalty of death. They had images to maintain of course.</p><p>“Fuck is right,” said Lambert, louder than was necessary and with feigned shock. “It’s midday, lad. Vesemir is in the yard shouting about a no-good stableboy shirking his duties.”</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes popped wide and he scrambled to get up.</p><p>“Don’t listen to him,” said Geralt. “He’s full of shit.”</p><p>Jaskier plopped back down on the sawdust floor with a groan. He wanted to say fuck you Lambert or don’t be a prick Lambert. But these men were his employers.</p><p>He looked up at the two witchers and gathered what dignity he could in his stinky dirty state.</p><p>“Lambert, sir,” he said with all the sugary sweetness of maple syrup, “I am truly blessed to be gifted with your sparkling charm so early in the morning. It exceeds even the considerable charm of the wild boar with rabies that I had to chase out of the pens yesterday.”</p><p>Geralt threw his head back and laughed. He rarely laughed so heartily. The sound of it genuinely cooled Jaskier’s temper. Lambert also rewarded him with a genuine cackle and leaned over to nudge his shoulder.</p><p>“You wake up full of piss and vinegar, don’t you lad?”</p><p>“Piss, maybe,” said Jaskier, smiling a crooked smile, and pulling himself up completely this time. He tried to brush off some of the dust from his trousers, but it was a sad attempt that simply transferred some of the dirt to his palms. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’ve gotta take a leak.”</p><p>Jaskier slipped out the door of the stables. He blinked, adjusting to the light. He shaded his eyes. He’d worked at Kaer Morhen for years, and yet he never tired of seeing the stunning old keep being greeted by the sun rising over the blue mountains. No one really knew how old the castle was exactly, but it was fastidiously maintained by the veritable army of witchers and staff that tended to it each day. It was stunning, majestic, and was surrounded by myth, magic, and history.</p><p>He felt fortunate every day that he woke up and got to belong here.</p><p>He also felt that he had to take a piss. He positioned himself so that the stables obscured him and he untied his trousers, eyeing a shrub that would be the recipient. He was halfway through relieving himself when he saw a familiar figure approaching out of the corner of his eye. He did a double take.</p><p>“Fuck fuck fuckitty fuck,” he chanted, willing his bladder to empty faster. He laced himself back up and darted back inside the stables, his heart thumping.</p><p>Lambert and Geralt had moved on to other topics but they still noticed when he reappeared.</p><p>Jaskier stationed himself just inside the stable doors, and without thinking, he instinctively smoothed his hair and checked his breath by blowing into his cupped palms. He immediately regretted it. Now he knew how ripe his breath was, yet there was nothing he could do about it. Furthermore, his movement hadn’t escaped Lambert’s canny eyes.</p><p>The witcher elbowed Geralt. “You still don’t get it, do ya, dumbass? Watch him. Our piss and vinegar friend's about to get as sweet as a little cinnamon roll.”</p><p>Jaskier shot him the most withering look in his arsenal but it passed over his features like a breeze, quickly forgotten. Eskel’s footfalls were just outside the door.</p><p>Eskel pushed open the door of the stable and at the sight of his dark hair and scarred face, the stableboy felt as though someone had released a thousand butterflies into his gut. A stupid, involuntary grin spread on his face.</p><p>You see, the stableboy loved Eskel. As far as he was concerned, Eskel was more beautiful than anything else in Kaer Morhen. He was more lovely than the groves of pines surrounding the keep. He was more breathtaking than the view from the eastern balcony at sunset. He was patient. Kind. Funny. Easy going. When Eskel was around, life felt softer. Safer. Or maybe Jaskier was just better able to bear its hard edges in Eskel’s calming, competent presence.</p><p>It had started as an innocent crush. Jaskier had arrived as a teenager at Kaer Morhen, terrified. He’d heard so many stories of monstrous, fierce, deadly witchers. His knees practically knocked in fear.</p><p>And yet that first day, Lambert and Coën had picked on him jovially, as though he were a younger brother. Jaskier had caught Geralt telling all of his cares to his horse, Roach. It’s hard to be intimidated by a man after witnessing such a thing. And then Eskel had sent Jaskier home with a loaf of bread he’d baked to celebrate his start on the job. The bread had been crusty on the outside and soft on the inside. If a poet had used it as a metaphor for witchers, he’d be told it was too on the nose.</p><p>The sight of Eskel with a flour spattered apron tied around his sturdy waist, handing him a loaf of fresh baked bread, was all it took for his infatuation to take hold.</p><p>Of course Jaskier felt certain that Eskel only saw him as the grubby young man who did a good job of caring for his animals.</p><p>But Jaskier couldn’t help it. He saw Eskel as his most beloved.</p><p>He tried to cajole the butterflies in his stomach to calm their fluttering as Eskel entered the stables.</p><p>The broad witcher nodded at Geralt and Lambert. He had on his worn, darned work clothes. They were faded black trousers with leather reinforcements at the knees and an off white tunic with a collar cut low enough to hint at the dip between his pecs. He also wore brown gloves and thick soled boots. It meant he’d be working around the Keep today. That made Jaskier’s heart glad.</p><p>Eskel noticed Jaskier. His honeyed eyes looked him up and down, like he was checking him for injury.</p><p>“You stayed in the stables last night, Jaskier?” he asked.</p><p>“Yes,” Jaskier answered, and he cleared his throat. He was a grown man. Yet, sometimes, his voice still squeaked when Eskel was around. Jaskier pointed at Lil’ Bleater, then dropped to kneel by the goat. “You know how she got that gash? Well, it was weeping yesterday. I was worried about her getting an infection and it seems like she might’ve had a fever. So I made her a little bed in the stables for the night. And well, you were gone on a job, so...”</p><p>His voice trailed off as Eskel knelt next to him. The witcher had just bathed, and to Jaskier’s senses, he smelled divine: like soap and leather. Jaskier lost his train of thought and his words disappeared in a cloud of lust.</p><p>It didn’t seem to bother Eskel. He pulled off his gloves and stuffed them into his pocket. He lifted Lil’ Bleater’s bandage and nodded.</p><p>“Nice job with this dressing, Jaskier. She’s looking better. I don’t think we have to worry about infection.” He patted Jaskier on the shoulder. “Thanks for taking care of my girl.” Jaskier grinned proudly. But Eskel’s face grew concerned. “There was a cold snap last night, though. Surprised you didn’t get frostbite. Let me see,” Eskel beckoned for Jaskier to show him his hands.</p><p>“Lil’ Bleater snuggled up and we made it alright,” said Jaskier. He tried hard to keep his hands from trembling when Eskel took them. He had so few opportunities to feel the warm brush of Eskel’s hands. He tried to memorize how it felt, to tide him over until next time.</p><p>“Jealous, Eskel?” asked Lambert. “About the snuggling?”</p><p>Eskel studiously ignored him.</p><p>“Jealous of Jaskier, or of the goat?” needled Geralt.</p><p>Lambert looked at Geralt, impressed. “Good one. See, you’re getting it.”</p><p>“Not you too, Geralt,” sighed Eskel, though he didn’t look up from examining Jaskier’s fingers.</p><p>Geralt raised his hands. “Sorry, sorry. He brings out the worst in me.”</p><p>Lambert smacked him. “Don’t blame your shitty jokes on me.”</p><p>“Ouch,” Geralt rumbled and he rubbed his arm where Lambert had tapped it. “You said it was a good one.” He sounded aggrieved.</p><p>Eskel squeezed Jaskier’s hands and released him. “Looks ok. There’s no way you got any sleep though. Next time wake up one of these assholes. Make them help.”</p><p>“Hey,” said Lambert. “I’m not the only asshole in this place. Stableboy holds his own. He just treats you like the king of the continent.”</p><p>“Sure,” said Eskel, “whatever you say.” He winked at Jaskier, and pulled himself back up to standing. Jaskier stared in shock at Eskel. He’d never winked at him before. The cold of the night before was forgotten. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever feeling cold in his life.</p><p>“What are you two chuckleheads doing out here anyway?” asked Eskel.</p><p>“Vesemir sent us to look for you,” said Geralt.</p><p>“House meeting,” said Lambert. “Masquerade planners are gonna be here in an hour.”</p><p>Jaskier was still kneeling by Lil Bleater, replaying the wink in his mind and stroking the goat’s striped head. When he heard the word ‘masquerade’ he froze. The witchers didn’t notice. They had moved on from Jaskier and the goat and onto the business at hand.</p><p>Eskel groaned. “And I have to be there? The western staircase needs a lot of work. The oven needs repair. The goat pen needs reinforcements.”</p><p>Geralt nodded sympathetically. Geralt and Eskel shared a mutual distaste for the society hangers on and the political operatives stacked into those meetings. “I know, but Vesemir says you’ve gotta go.”</p><p>“What about Coën?” asked Eskel. “Can’t he go?” Coën was the fourth witcher that made up their tight knit group. He was easy going like Eskel, and playful like a puppy. There were many witchers filling the halls during the winter, but those four were inseparable.</p><p>“He’s already there,” shrugged Geralt. “Vesemir wants you too.”</p><p>“You have to go,” said Lambert. “You and Coën are his last great hopes. And you’re the one with all the extraordinary magical abilities.” The last three words, Lambert said with a false studiousness in an imitation of Vesemir. He also lifted his fingers to tip at an imaginary hat.</p><p>Jaskier chuckled under his breath. It was a pretty good impression.</p><p>Eskel narrowed his eyes at Lambert. “Well, if some people didn’t insist on marrying Cat witchers, there wouldn’t be so much pressure on me,” he groused.</p><p>“Since when do you judge my relationship?” asked Lambert.</p><p>“Since it means I have to go to this masquerade meeting,” said Eskel.</p><p>Lambert frowned. “Yeah ok.”</p><p>“Cat school,” said Geralt, shaking his head. “What have times come to?”</p><p>“Hey,” protested Lambert, “we’re all one big happy school now right?” He said it with the tired, irritated air of a man who’d had this conversation many more times than he wanted to.</p><p>“Only to prevent us being slaughtered to death,” protested Geralt. “Only because there’s strength in numbers. They’re still murderers. They still take human contracts.” Geralt grimaced.</p><p>“They don’t do that anymore. Terms of the deal,” said Lambert.</p><p>“They still do it on the side,” said Geralt. “They barely try to hide it.”</p><p>“Not Aiden,” said Lambert.</p><p>“Either way,” said Eskel, cutting in, “they want us to make lots of baby witchers now. And Lambert, you aren’t going to be making any. So now it falls to me.”</p><p>“I guess you better get on that, then,” said Lambert. “I’ve already gone in front of the council. I’ve told them Aiden’s not going anywhere. And anyone who has a problem with it can taste my blade.” He rested his hand on a nonexistent hilt for emphasis. He was also dressed in work clothes, so there weren't actually swords strapped to his back.</p><p>“Calm down,” said Geralt. “You get so fuckin dramatic when you talk about him.”</p><p>Lambert shrugged. “Just the truth.”</p><p>Eskel groaned. “Fine. Let’s go.”</p><p>The witchers started to leave. Jaskier still sat frozen next to the goat, listening intently. Eskel remembered he was there and turned to touch him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Jaskier. You should go get some rest.”</p><p>Geralt and Lambert raised their hands amiably in goodbye.</p><p>“See ya lad,” said Lambert.</p><p>Jaskier nodded in return. “See ya.”</p><p>But the only word ringing in his mind was masquerade.</p><p>The Kaer Morhen Masquerade.</p><p>Jaskier had dreamt of attending the masquerade for as long as he could remember.</p><p>The first time he’d heard stories about the masquerade as a child, the circumstances surrounding its inception had captured his imagination. He had sat wide eyed and listened to the tales of his classmates.</p><p>According to their hushed stories, the masquerade was born out of a plot to attack Kaer Morhen. The nefarious plot to slaughter everyone at the Keep had been thwarted moments before a mob was to descend.</p><p>They received a desperate anonymous tip in the nick of time. In a state of alarm, all the witcher schools met. They knew in their bones that if Kaer Morhen was a target, they would all be targets, eventually. They had to band together if they were to survive.</p><p>The next night, the unified witchers managed to wrest control of their destinies from the kings and mages who had created them, and who still controlled them. It was a dark and bloody night, and it changed the world. The next day the witchers set up their own self governing council, and immediately passed drastic reforms that would save not only Kaer Morhen, but all the schools.</p><p>One of the most sweeping reforms was to change how witchers carried on their legacy; how they created more witchers.</p><p>The newly formed witchers council decided that the taking of children, and the trial of the grasses had to end.</p><p>The trials killed almost all of the children. Killing children didn’t earn them any good will. And if they wanted to repopulate their ranks and create political capital, these practices worked at literal opposite ends with their goals. It kept them weak. It kept them right where the kings and mages wanted them.</p><p>The council decided that witchers needed to solve their problem of infertility, and they needed to take spouses instead.</p><p>They solved the first problem with the help of the lodge. The powerful enchantresses had been working on curing on their own fertility. They cooperated and found success. The witchers were fertile again, but only if their partner had magical abilities. There was something about the joining of the witchers and magic that solved their problem.</p><p>The partner didn’t have to be a sorceress or mage. They just had to have some innate magic, which thankfully was relatively common among certain families or those with mixed elder blood.</p><p>In order to arrange those matches, the Witcher’s Council established the masquerade to address the second. Every ten years, they would hold a masked dance. Witchers ready to marry would dance with magically-gifted potential suitors, who would come from far and wide to attend. They weren't required to be women, as long as they were magically gifted and willing and able to marry a witcher and bear children. But most of the suitors were women. At the end of the night, the witchers would choose one of the guests to be their spouse. It wasn’t a binding contract. They could get out of it if they wanted to badly enough, once all the masks were removed. But they usually didn’t try.</p><p>Against all odds, it was an overwhelming success.</p><p>The masquerade was a spectacle, expertly crafted to become the most coveted social event on the continent. Full orchestras, magical illusions, and a dramatic ceremony where the witchers would choose a spouse, was only the beginning. There were dances created just for the masquerade. Chefs from all over the continent competed to provide the delectable food. What was more, families who married into a witcher school were offered generous dowries and the protection of newly formed regiments of witchers.</p><p>The masquerade quickly became legendary. Children hoped their older sisters would be chosen by a witcher. They wanted to see these enigmatic, scarred, intimidating warriors marching through their cities throwing magical signs and protecting them in a crisis.</p><p>Jaskier was enchanted by it, long before he’d met a single witcher or set foot in Kaer Morhen. But he didn’t dream of witchers visiting his town. He dreamed of attending the masquerade for himself. The drama of the masks and the choosing ceremony struck him as exciting and glamorous. Furthermore, little Jaskier had an unparalleled passion for music. What could be better than an extravagant live orchestra and exhilarating dances?</p><p>‘Masquerade’ was the only game he had wanted to play as a child.</p><p>Happily, so did his little sister Essi. She had a voice as sweet as harp, and was easily drawn into the magic and the mystery of playing masquerade. They made little masks for their dolls with scrap pieces from old drapes. They would line up the dolls on her bed to serve as their audience. Then they would dance.</p><p>Naturally, the scene couldn’t rival the real masquerade. The masks weren’t made of satin or adorned with crystals. Essi’s room wasn’t swathed in fantastical decorations summoned by mages. And the sounds of a live orchestra did not fill their room.</p><p>But they created their own magic.</p><p>Jaskier would bow low and take Essi’s hand. Then they would spin around the room, giggling, twirling, and matching each other step for step.</p><p>One of the dances, <em>Waltz of the Wolf</em>, had been invented just for the masquerade by a troupe from Oxenfurt to capture the strength, precision and grace of Witchers from the School of the Wolf. Jaskier and Essi had taught themselves its quick, intricate movements within months of seeing it performed at a festival. And after a few years of playing masquerade, they knew the dance just as well as a royal dance troupe. They could swap places and Essi would lead and Jaskier would follow. Or Jaskier would lead and Essi would follow.</p><p>Jaskier had developed his own style. He had a head turn, a dip, or a roll of his hips for every single movement of the dance. He could have competed and put the rest to shame, if his mother had allowed him to. Jaskier was proud of their accomplishment, and as they danced, he would picture himself at the masquerade, performing for the admiring crowds.</p><p>But when Jaskier met Eskel, his dream grew beyond intricate dances and admiring audiences.</p><p>It grew beyond mysterious masks and thrumming music.</p><p>The dream grew to be about Eskel, too.</p><p>Jaskier realized it one evening as he and Essi danced. They were not children anymore, but they still danced. He was employed by then at Kaer Morhen, and his crush on Eskel was growing into something far more powerful.</p><p>As Jaskier fluidly moved his sister from arm to arm, sweeping her around the room and lifting her above his head, the seed of a dream sprouted. It was a dream that lay latent ever since he arrived in Kaer Morhen, but one he had tried desperately to put out of his mind.</p><p>If only he could go to the masquerade, Eskel would see him like this.</p><p>If only he could go to the masquerade, Eskel would look at him in wonder. With lust.</p><p>Eskel would claim <em>him</em> as his spouse, instead of some stranger. And he would live in Kaer Morhen as family, not as staff. Not as a stable boy with pig slop on his shoes.</p><p>Jaskier knew he was handsome. When he went to the theater, or to taverns, people looked at him hungrily. Men and women complimented him and propositioned him to do lovely, filthy things. Sometimes he did them.</p><p>But when he was at Kaer Morhen, he was filthy in a much different, much less sexy way. He wore simple, drab clothing. He smelled of livestock. He was dusty and scratched up half the time. He smelled like horse piss and curdled goat’s milk.</p><p>And because he had started work there as a teenager, none of the witchers seemed to notice that he was now a grown man. Lambert insisted on calling him lad even though he bristled at it.</p><p>He didn’t care, really. Geralt, Coën, Lambert, they could all still dismiss him as a lad. But Eskel was different. He wanted Eskel to see what he could be.</p><p>Jaskier wanted to sweep into the big ballroom in Kaer Morhen in elegant clothing, his neck glittering with precious gems. Clean. Smelling fragrant. Dancing. He knew he was gorgeous when he danced. The music moving his body filled him with such joy that he couldn’t stop the radiance of his smile, even if he wanted to.</p><p>Sheer joy and confident sensual movements are damn near irresistible to most people. If Eskel could only see the grace and beauty he was capable of, surely the witcher would see him in a new way.</p><p>Roach neighed in Jaskier’s ear and he almost leapt out of his own skin.</p><p>He was still in the stables, daydreaming again. Just the sight of the hay on the ground and his humble surroundings brought him back down to earth. He grew angry with himself and his hands clenched into fists. These dreams only built up unreasonable expectations that would inevitably disappoint him.</p><p>He had chores to do.</p><p>He swept the floors in frustrated jerky motions and reminded himself of the unchangeable facts. It wouldn’t matter if Eskel saw him differently. Jaskier knew what was expected of Eskel. Eskel wanted someone important. Someone with a magical pedigree who could bear him a child who would make Kaer Morhen stronger.</p><p>He scolded himself as he worked. He couldn’t have Eskel. And this fantasy tortured him. The sooner he let go of the dream, the sooner he could be happy.</p><p>From what he remembered, the dance was about a month away. He just had to ignore its existence for a month. Then this fantasy would die a dignified death, and he could live in peace.</p><p>Pretending the masquerade did not exist worked for Jaskier for a few weeks. He kept to the stables and avoided all conversation about it. He even walked away when he heard others start to gossip lustily about the beauties in gowns who would be descending on the keep.</p><p>However, it was impossible to completely avoid the masquerade. Everyone had extra assignments to help Kaer Morhen prepare for it. The grounds had to be gleaming. There had to be tents erected to accommodate the deluge of fashionable ladies. Stages had to be built in the main ballroom. But he tried to discipline his mind. He imagined they were doing this work for an event that had no bearing on his life. Because, he told himself, it really didn’t.</p><p>Jaskier managed that way for three weeks. He was more tense. More distracted. But he managed.</p><p>Then, one day, when the masquerade was about a week away, Eskel came into the stables just in time to see Jaskier trip over Lil Bleater and fall on his ass.</p><p>Jaskier had grabbed the broom and spun it around, going through every step of the <em>Waltz of the Wolf</em>. It was a ritual he performed every night as he swept up. It lifted his spirits and sent him home content. He would play the music in his mind and spin in a wide circle, head turn, dip, hip roll.</p><p>But that night, Lil Bleater had let herself into the stables and wandered closer than Jaskier had realized. He did a spin and his shin thudded into the damnable creature.</p><p>Eskel saw him stumble, and hopped quickly to his side to offer help. His arms were so strong, that when Jaskier took his hand, he popped back up like a jack in the box and bumped against his expansive chest.</p><p>“Sorry, sorry,” said Jaskier, stepping backwards. But not before allowing his hand to rest for just a beat too long on Eskel’s pecs.</p><p>Eskel didn’t seem to notice. His hand still rested on Jaskier's elbow and he looked concerned. “Are you ok? You’ve been a little--”</p><p>“Distracted?” asked Jaskier. “Lately?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Yes, I’m sorry,” answered Jaskier.</p><p>“No, no, you don’t need to apologize,” insisted Eskel. “I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”</p><p>“Yes, oh yes, I’m fine,” said Jaskier, smacking his own hips and ass to get the hay off.</p><p>“You need...help?”</p><p>“Oh no, of course not, I’m fine, like I say.” Jaskier was mortified and attempted to change the subject. In his frantic search for appropriate topics, he accidentally seized on the masquerade.</p><p>He had, up to that point, resisted bringing it up to Eskel. If Eskel seemed too excited, if he spoke of beautiful maidens and impending nuptials, Jaskier knew he would be miserable. However, in his moment of embarrassment, with the masquerade unavoidably on his mind, he blurted it out.</p><p>“So, how’s the masquerade planning going?” asked Jaskier. He ran his fingers through his hair, willing it to sit down neatly.</p><p>Eskel shrugged. “Fine, I guess?” His eyes lit up. “I’m learning to dance.”</p><p>“I like to dance,” said Jaskier.</p><p>He cursed his awkwardness. Jaskier was well read, and even wrote poetry in his spare time. Some of his poems were so heartfelt that they brought tears to Essi’s eyes. But here, in front of Eskel, all he could say was “I like to dance.”</p><p>“I know,” said Eskel.</p><p>“Y--you do?” asked Jaskier. Jaskier’s mind spun. How did Eskel know he loved to dance?</p><p>“I do,” said Eskel. “You're always dancing around in here.”</p><p>Jaskier nodded. Eskel was more right than he knew. Jaskier tried to limit his skipping around on the job, but when no one was around, he would dance around the stables, the barn, the pens, everywhere.</p><p>“You know, you could always come up to the castle and do the lessons with me. You could probably teach the instructor a thing or two,” said Eskel hopefully.</p><p>Jaskier pictured watching Eskel learn to dance in order to meet a spouse that was not him. He pictured watching his beautiful witcher move around the floor, practicing for some noble, magical woman who would take him away. Would she move into Kaer Morhen? Would she be on Eskel’s arm when he visited the stables? Would she be kind to Jaskier? That would almost make it worse.</p><p>Jaskier felt ill. “Thanks. But I’ve got a lot of work down here.”</p><p>Eskel nodded. “If you change your mind, come on up.”</p><p>Jaskier absently scuffed the toe of his shoe on the stable floor. “I doubt I’ll be done in time.”</p><p>“Alright.” said Eskel. There was a lull, and then Eskel said something Jaskier did not expect. “You know, you could attend the masquerade. You could be my assistant. You could dress me.”</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes popped open wide. His jaw dropped just enough that his lips parted. He thought of pulling a dress coat over Eskel. Of buttoning his trousers. Suddenly all he could think of was his solid thighs, his soft stomach...oh gods, he was thinking about Eskel’s cock. Jaskier just stood staring slack jawed at the witcher.</p><p>Eskel stammered. “You don’t have to be just the help though. You could dance with the ladies. They say the princess of Temeria herself is coming.”</p><p>Jaskier’s heart sank. Eskel sensed his disappointment, because he could scent him. He could hear his heartbeat. But the witcher seemed at a loss to understand why. “Or, you could serve food. Or...or anything you wanted.”</p><p>Jaskier looked around the stables as he tried desperately to think of an excuse not to go to the masquerade. It was what he had wanted since he was a child. And the last thing he wanted to do was reject Eskel. But he truly didn’t think his poor heart could survive it.</p><p>He couldn’t dress Eskel, knowing someone else would undress him. He couldn’t watch him dance, wondering which lady he would choose, instead of him, to bring to Kaer Morhen and shower with gorgeous crooked smiles and tender kisses. There was no way.</p><p>“T-thanks. I don’t think so though.”</p><p>“Oh, of course. Yes, ok,” said Eskel.</p><p>---</p><p>That night, Jaskier slunk home. His heart was heavy. But he only had one more week to get through.</p><p>And he did get through it. Each day he went to Kaer Morhen and took care of the animals. Each day he helped set up for the big day. And when the day of the masquerade arrived, he dutifully showed up and tended to the horses.</p><p>Before long though, Vesemir and Eskel came down to the stables to let him off early. They had hired many extra hands to help with the arriving ladies. And Eskel said that if he changed his mind and wanted to staff the ball as a server or anything else, that he should come back to Kaer Morhen that night. They would put him to work doing whatever he chose to do.</p><p>So, the day of the masquerade, with Kaer Morhen bustling with more activity than he had ever witnessed, Jaskier went home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Gown for Her Son</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jaskier returns home and finds his little sister Essi crying.  His evil stepfather Stregobor is forcing her to go to he masquerade against her will, and despite the fact that she is too young to be a suitor.</p><p>Essi comes up with a solution.</p><p>---------<br/>Essi hiccuped and blew her nose into a handkerchief she had wrinkled up in her hand. “He made me put this gown on and he’s making me go and I don’t wanna go,” she said miserably.</p><p>“Go where, darling what are you dressed up for?” </p><p>Essi looked up at him, tears pooled in her eyes. “Please don’t be angry.”</p><p>“What do you mean? Of course I won’t be angry!” Not at you anyway, he thought, but didn’t say.</p><p>“You’re going to hate me for being upset about it,” she insisted.</p><p>“I will not,” he said firmly. He looked at her severely and squeezed her tight for emphasis. </p><p>“The masquerade,” she sniffled. “At Kaer Morhen. He’s making me go.”</p><p>Jaskier leaned back and looked at her in shock. “You can’t go to the masquerade! It’s for the witchers to choose brides. You’re too young! You’re only thirteen!”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome back loves!! Thanks for staying with my little story :)</p><p>Content warnings: None, really. Just references to a really shitty step father, who is forcing an underaged girl to go to a matchmaking ball against her will.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The trail approaching the Keep was narrow, misty, and unforgiving. To the untrained eye, openings in the trail seemed to dissipate with regularity. Forks in it seemed to relocate. A regular human attempting to navigate it would invariably lose their way.</p><p>Once Kaer Morhen had decided to open itself to the world, they’d commissioned a mechanical, steam powered gondola to carry human staff up and down the mountain. With the gondola running, housekeepers, cooks, and yes, even stableboys, could come and go from Kaer Morhen safely.</p><p>The gondola was built by proud gnomish craftsmen, with metal extracted from their own Mahakam mines. It’s bright surface eagerly caught and reflected the sun. The trusty cables creaked and slid but would hold strong for several centuries at least.</p><p>The gondola was affectionately called “Draakul” by the Kaer Morhen staff, after Geralt’s favorite mule. Geralt had his beast of burden, and they had theirs.</p><p>On this morning, Draakul was carrying a stableboy home far earlier than usual.</p><p>Jaskier sat on a worn oaken bench inside Draakul, and stared glumly out the window as Draakul descended. His cheeks shook from the vibrations of the motion. He was alone, as the rest of the staff had barely begun their work day back at Kaer Morhen.</p><p>He was silent, watching the sparse fog hit the windows, and flutter past. He stared at the lush green treetops without really seeing them. His heart sunk as far and as fast as the gondola, as he slipped farther and farther away from Kaer Morhen.</p><p>Eskel was choosing a bride tonight, and it wouldn’t be him. And because he couldn’t bear to watch it happen, he was missing the dance of his dreams. And on top of it all, Jaskier was going home early.</p><p>Jaskier wasn’t like most people.</p><p>Most people counted down the moments when they could leave work. Most people couldn’t wait to leave the drudgering of their jobs and go back to hearth and home. But Jaskier preferred to be at work. He preferred Kaer Morhen.</p><p>Going home always put him in a bad mood.</p><p>There was nothing wrong with their estate. In fact, Jaskier came from a far more well-to-do family than most stable boys. Their home was respectable, spacious, and covered with ivy.</p><p>And yes, he loved seeing his sister Essi. But she was the only bright spot in that place. If it weren’t for her, Jaskier wouldn’t go home at all.</p><p>It wasn’t even his home anymore, really. His late mother had bought it, though Jaskier tried to push all memories of her back into the recesses of his mind. But his stepfather, Stregobor, had managed to take him off of the deed.</p><p>Jaskier wasn’t sure how the asshole had managed it, legally speaking. He hadn’t asked. He didn’t much care. When Stregobor died, Essi would get the house. She was his proper heir, after all. And Jaskier wanted nothing more than for Essi to be comfortable and cared for.</p><p>He loved his sister with even more ferocity than he hated Stregobor, which is why he endured such indignity. And Stregobor seemed to always be thinking up new indignities to inflict upon him. Jaskier wasn’t sure why the man hated him so much. Essi insisted he didn’t, but his actions suggested otherwise.</p><p>Stregobor had sent him to work at Kaer Morhen as a humiliation. Forcing him to work in the stables shoveling shit had been a form of disowning him. It was supposed to ruin his social standing, and to break his spirit. It said “you are not mine” and “you are nobody” and “your mother is no longer here to protect you.”</p><p>The mage hadn’t counted on several important things. Firstly, Jaskier didn’t find hard work humiliating. It was honorable labor, and it turned out that he loved horses.</p><p>Secondly, though he wouldn’t dare to say the words aloud, the Kaer Morhen witchers had begun to feel like a sort of family.</p><p>Lambert and Geralt took the piss sometimes, but he thought of them as the annoying older brothers he’d never had. Coen always had a ready smile and an invitation to play cards. Vesemir listened to his advice about the stables and the animals. The witcher had to be three centuries old, and he was the head of the Witcher’s Council. Yet he always valued Jaskier’s point of view. It made him feel like somebody.</p><p>And he loved Eskel. Oh how he loved Eskel.</p><p>They even offered to darn his workclothes when they noticed them getting ragged, and invited him in for dinner on nights they were all together. He never had the guts to say much, other than the occasional barb he thought funny enough to share. But it made him feel accepted.</p><p>He knew his presence at Kaer Morhen couldn’t mean so very much to them. And if they really knew who he was, J<em>ulian Alfred Pankratz</em>, they’d almost certainly reject him. But they didn’t know. So they treated him with respect. They cared about his well-being.</p><p>By comparison, coming “home” felt like the humiliation.</p><p>But he did it for her. His tiny force of nature, Essi, who’s blond hair always swooped down, covering one of her big blue eyes. It’s why he called her “Little Eye.”</p><p>The gondola creaked to a stop at the bottom of the mountains. Jaskier’s horse Pegasus was waiting for him there. He rode the rest of the way home.</p><p>He rode down the serene streets and tried to take comfort in the fact that at least it was Friday.</p><p>Friday was the night he and Essi sat by the piano and sang. They were writing a song together and it fed his soul.</p><p>At least there was that.</p><p>—-</p><p>Jaskier pulled in a cleansing breath. Then, he pushed open the front door.</p><p>He thought it was odd that Essi didn’t run out to greet him. Though he tended to make himself quiet and unobtrusive in that house (and nowhere else) she tromped around it as she pleased. By now, her arms should be around his waist, squeezing him and complaining about his stench.</p><p>She was petite for her thirteen years, and Jaskier was tall for nineteen, so her head would nestle right at his armpits.</p><p>They had a ritual. He would say... “If I smell so bad, then stop hugging me.” Then she would say, “no”. Then she would wrinkle her nose and push onto her toes to kiss him on the cheek.</p><p>Jaskier really didn’t smell today, though. He had left work far too early, so he hadn’t done enough work to dirty himself. That would please her.</p><p>He moved down the hall towards her room, passing several ostentatious portraits of Stregobor with various dignitaries, and even one historical painting with Stregobor greeting a group of elves disembarking from a ship. Jaskier snorted out of rote habit.</p><p>He creaked open the door to Essi’s room, sticking in only his nose. Her room had pink walls and a lavender ceiling, and was crammed with dolls and gauzy fabric hangings draped over her bed frame and dressers.</p><p>“I’m home, Little Eye,” he stage whispered through the crack in the door.</p><p>The sight that greeted him, instantly threw him into a panic. Essi sat on her bed, resplendent in a powder blue formal gown, which puffed around her like a cloud. It had layers of gauzy material in the skirt, but the bodice was cut low enough that it almost revealed her belly button. Her face was buried in her hands, and she was crying.</p><p>Jasker dashed to the bed and pawed the fabric aside so he could wedge himself onto the bed next to her. He gathered her into his arms and she nuzzled into the crook of his arms, snuffling.</p><p>“Essi what’s wrong?” He pleaded. “Tell me! What did he do?”</p><p>Seeing Essi cry always made Jaskier feel violent urges. It made him want to break something. Burn something to its foundation. Murder someone. But since the cause of her tears was usually her father, and he couldn’t very well murder the man who gave her life, he had to find other ways to deal with his emotions.</p><p>Essi hiccuped and blew her nose into a handkerchief she had wrinkled up in her hand. “He made me put this gown on and he’s making me go and I don’t wanna go,” she said miserably.</p><p>“Go where, darling what are you dressed up for?”</p><p>Essi looked up at him, tears pooled in her eyes. “Please don’t be angry.”</p><p>“What do you mean? Of course I won’t be angry!” <em>Not at you anyway</em>, he thought, but didn’t say.</p><p>“You’re going to hate me for being upset about it,” she insisted.</p><p>“I will not,” he said firmly. He looked at her severely and squeezed her tight for emphasis.</p><p>“The masquerade,” she sniffled. “At Kaer Morhen. He’s making me go.”</p><p>Jaskier leaned back and looked at her in shock. “You can’t go to the masquerade! It’s for the witchers to choose brides. You’re too young! You’re only thirteen!”</p><p>“I know,” she wailed. It set off another chain of sniffles. “That’s what I told dad but he won’t listen. I said I don’t want to be a wife yet, if ever. That I want to play with my puzzles and read and not be married off to some ancient witcher.”</p><p>Jaskier understood that what sounded like heaven to him, sounded like a horror to a child.</p><p>“What did he say?” he asked.</p><p>Essi flopped her hands, which were still clutching her damp handkerchief, down in her lap. Her cheeks were streaked with kohl and her chin smeared with lip tint.</p><p>Jaskier reached up to gently clean her face with his fingers as she spoke.</p><p>“He said that I was the perfect age.”</p><p>An acid feeling gathered in Jaskier’s stomach. He pushed himself up off the bed and started towards the door.</p><p>Essi leapt up like she was on fire and grabbed his arm.</p><p>“No! No!” she hissed. “You’ll make it worse!” She was much smaller than him, but she dug her feet into the rug and leveraged her body to tug him back towards the bed.</p><p>“No I won’t, I won’t shout! I promise!” said Jaskier. “I’ll just tell him that Vesemir set the minimum age as nineteen for the masquerade. You won’t be allowed in.”</p><p>She grabbed Jaskier by the wrist and pulled him back to the bed to sit with a bounce. “I told him!” She said urgently. “I’ve grown up hearing you talk about the masquerade, so I know the rules. But he said to lie! And he said those rules were only for appearances and that I would have the greatest advantage. That the witchers will prefer a young girl who’s still a—-“ she whispered “virgin.”</p><p>Jaskier growled. He was growing physically hot with anger. “That’s <em>not true</em> darling. He doesn’t know them at all. They aren’t <em>like</em> that.”</p><p>Essi flopped against his shoulder. “I’m sorry. You probably think I’m an ungrateful brat for not wanting to go. I know this is your dream.”</p><p>“No!” said Jaskier. “You aren’t upsetting me.” Truthfully he <em>was</em> upset. He was boiling like a hot spring inside. He wanted to go throttle her father. But he forced calm into his voice. He would be the big brother. He would soothe her. “You shouldn’t be going. You’re a child. My dream is my dream. It doesn’t need to be yours.” But oh god, just hearing her say it was his dream, then saying it out loud was powerful. It twisted him with bitter regret that he had just left it behind at the top of the Blue Mountains. But this moment wasn’t about him. She needed to know she was safe. “But you don’t need to be frightened.”</p><p>She lifted her head and looked at him.</p><p>“Oh Julek. I know they’re your friends but they’re so large and so old. And I’m sorry but they <em>are</em> frightening. They’ve killed people you know, and they kill monsters and I’ve never even been with a regular man—-“</p><p>Essi’s breathing rapidly quickened and she leaned forward between her knees.</p><p>“Oh dear,” Jaskier said. He leapt up and found a paper bag and handed it to her. “Breathe into this,”</p><p>Essi breathed into the bag. Jaskier sat on the bed. He rubbed her back softly and repeated the words “Breathe, darling. Breathe. You’re going to be fine. No one at Kaer Morhen is going to hurt you.”</p><p>Essi inhaled and exhaled purposefully until her breathing slowed again. She dropped the bag and leaned over until she flopped over with her head on Jaskier’s lap. He stroked her hair, trying to do anything that could calm her.</p><p>“Listen to me,” he said, infusing his voice with comfort and authority. “You don’t have to worry, Little Eye. Vesemir is in charge, and he’s a good man. Just go straight to him and tell him everything. He won’t let anyone choose you. He’ll take you to the kitchen and give you some warm milk, I swear it.”</p><p>Essi sighed. “I don’t know him. I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to go at all!”</p><p>“I know, sweetie. But I’m telling you. You can, and you’ll be safe.”</p><p>Jaskier tucked hair behind her ear. He breathed in deeply and quietly, stilling the shaking of his hands, rage still coursing through him.</p><p>“Let me tell you a story, ok? You know I was fourteen when Stregobor sent me to Kaer Morhen?” He knew this story would calm them both down.</p><p>“Yes,” said Essi.</p><p>“No one bothered me like that at all. And let’s be clear,” Jaskier paused to place his hand on his chest, “I am a morsel.” His voice sounded a bit thinner than it normally did when he told jokes. But it worked. Essi giggled and wiped at her cheeks.</p><p>“In fact,” continued Jaskier. “Once, a guest of theirs tried to grab me and kiss me when I didn’t want him to. Eskel quite literally punched him in the face.”</p><p>“He did!?” At the mention of Eskel, Essi’s ears perked right up.</p><p>“Yeah,” said Jaskier. “He did. And when the loathsome guest complained to the others, Geralt and Lambert told him that he’d deserved it, and if he tried it again they’d igni his balls.”</p><p>Essi laughed and covered her mouth. She rolled over so she was facing the lavender flocked ceiling.</p><p>Jaskier always talked about Eskel, and Essi had been trying to get him to admit for ages that he loved him. This opportunity to try it once again, distracted her from her troubles. There are simply few things that delight a little sister more than dragging a secret from a big brother. Even better if the secret is about love.</p><p>“You know,” she said the words slowly, as though she had a delicious secret. “I’ll bet Eskel punched him because he loves you.”</p><p>“No,” said Jaskier. “I was just a gangly teenager.”</p><p>“You aren’t anymore,” said Essi. “You’re taller than them I bet. You’re huge. And anyone can see that you’re handsome and you have the most flowy chest hair and I bet he loves you now.”</p><p>Jaskier grew serious and he crossed his arms. “Eskel doesn’t love me. I love him. There’s a difference.”</p><p>“Aha!” Essi sat up triumphantly. Her tears were forgotten, even though there were still slight traces of them on her face where Jaskier hadn’t quite been able to clean enough. She smacked Jaskier’s shoulder. “You admitted it,” she squealed. “You <em>do</em> love him.”</p><p>Jaskier sighed and looked down at his hands, now laying in his empty lap. Perhaps the truth would set him free. “I do.”</p><p>“I knew it!” crowed Essi. “You always insist you don’t. You call it a ‘ridiculous crush.”</p><p>“I know, I know,” said Jaskier, nudging her back. “I just didn’t want to get my hopes up. But there’s no use in denying it anymore.”</p><p>Essi beamed. There were practically real hearts in her eyes. “My brother is in love.” She fumbled through her skirts and pulled her legs up in a crossed position. “Tell me about the moment you knew you loved Eskel,” said Essi. “Please. I want a romantic story. It’ll cheer me up.”</p><p>“You crafty little thing,” said Jaskier. He shook his head. “You know I’ll do anything for you when you’re sad.”</p><p>Essi grinned and waited. She knew it very well. Jaskier looked at the ceiling and rolled his head. He pretended to think. He already knew.</p><p>“Ok. It was about a year ago. I stayed late to help because a storm was coming. It was just Eskel and me. The others were gone on jobs.”</p><p>“Ooo you were alone,” said Essi, eyes misting into the look she got when she talked about love and courtship.</p><p>Jaskier smiled, remembering the day. The air was damp and smelled like the promise of rain. There was a breeze ruffling the grass, chilling his ears, and threatening to grow into a gale. The sky had been the color of gunmetal. Gods, Eskel had looked so beautiful. The mist in the air had sheened his skin and his thin work shirt had been plastered to his powerful back. His sleeves were shoved up and his muscular scarred forearms were exposed to the cool air.</p><p>The rage finally trickled out of Jaskier at the memory. It was replaced by the feeling he always had when he was around Eskel, or when he pictured him. Safety. Calm.</p><p>Essi blinked her eyes expectantly. “And?”</p><p>“And. We were alone,” said Jaskier. “But there was so much work to do. We had to batten down the hatches, so to speak. Make sure everything was closed and boarded over.”</p><p>Essi brought her chin to rest on her fists and listened intently.</p><p>“We worked so hard that night. Nailing planks, setting locks, making sure the hay and equipment was all indoors. We make a good team, you know. We just know what the other wants. He would say...I need a--, and I would have his hammer there ready for him. He’d smile at me, even though were were busy...just a flash of a smile. Or our hands would touch passing things back and forth. Holding the boards in place.”</p><p>“Oooo. That’s so romantic,” said Essi dreamily.</p><p>Jaskier smothered a smile. But his eyes sparkled. “I wish. I’m sure he didn’t notice.”</p><p>“You don’t know that,” said Essi.</p><p>“Well,” continued Jaskier, “we got everything done. But then, the storm just...didn’t come. We were sweaty and exhausted. All the animals were closed in. And the clouds just cleared. The sky opened up. We couldn’t believe it, you know.”</p><p>“Like a miracle,” said Essi.</p><p>“It kind of felt that way,” he admitted. “We were so tired for nothing. But we didn’t care. I thought he’d just send me home, but he didn’t. He brought me to the goat pen and showed me some tricks he taught Lil Bleater.” Jaskier chuckled to himself. “Goat tricks. Can you imagine?”</p><p>“Like what?” asked Essi.</p><p>“Like hopping or bleating on command. The look on his face when Lil Bleater got it.” Jaskier smiled wide and involuntarily when he thought of Eskel throwing back his head and laughing. “This massive witcher looking like a little kid, so happy about a goat hopping.”</p><p>Jaskier was happy again, just remembering it.</p><p>“He’s a sweet bean in a big body,” said Essi.</p><p>“He is,” said Jaskier. “Then I thought for sure he’d send me home and go back to the castle. But he didn’t. He brought out some ale, and we sat on the wet grass, drinking and telling stores. Then we laid back, watching the sun set and the stars come out.”</p><p>“Wow,” said Essi. “Is that when you knew?”</p><p>“I’m getting there,” said Jaskier. “Let me tell it.”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>“We laid there talking. Just about little things. And I listened to him. He told me funny stories about his brothers. Just bragged about them. Geralt being such a great swordsman. Lambert telling some arrogant noble about himself. I’ve heard all the stories, but I like hearing them again.” He smiled to himself. “But after a while I wasn’t listening to his words. I was just hearing his voice. I could almost watch it floating over me as I lay there.”</p><p>Jaskier paused, and Essi was actually silent for once. His eyes fluttered closed and he let himself drift back to that day. He could remember how it felt. He could practically smell the misty air and the sharp grasses tickling his skin.</p><p>“That’s when I knew,” he murmured, almost to himself now, though Essi still listened with rapt attention. “It wasn’t anything he said. There wasn’t anything different about the moment. I just felt his voice vibrating through me.”</p><p>Eskel’s voice had been as content and at peace as he had ever heard it.</p><p>“I had a moment of clarity. I knew it in my soul. I knew this was the man I loved.”</p><p>Eskel had been so close. Jaskier had desperately wanted to roll onto his side and touch Eskel’s face. He’d yearned to tilt his head towards him, like a flower to the sun, and to kiss him. But he had known better.</p><p>“That’s lovely,” said Essi. Her eyes were pooling with tears, but they were happy ones this time. Her hands were clasped at her breast. “Julian, you should tell him! Why don’t you tell him?”</p><p>Jaskier scoffed. Essi was so sweet. But there was so much that she didn’t know yet. Things were so much more complicated than that.</p><p>“He doesn’t love me, Essi,” he replied. “Not like that. I’m just—I’m just the help, Little Eye. And he’s going to marry a fine magical lady who can give him a magical baby who will help to defend Kaer Morhen someday. No, sister. I don’t need to embarrass myself and lose my job.”</p><p>A voice in Jaskier’s head prodded him; y<em>ou aren’t telling her everything you coward</em>. But he had said all he would say.</p><p>“Did you want to tell him though?”</p><p>“I did want to. Of course I did. It was all I could do to bite my tongue. To not say it.”</p><p>“To say that you love him?”</p><p>“Yes. To say...” Jaskier swallowed. He had never said any of this out loud. But with his trusted sister listening, he decided to keep telling the truth...to lighten his sunken spirit.</p><p>“To say...Eskel of Kaer Morhen. I would do anything for you.” He pictured Eskel’s handsome scarred face and twinkling amber eyes. Emotion rose in his chest. “I would give anything. I am yours...completely and entirely, whether you want me or not. Everything I am, I would give to you if you were to but ask.”</p><p>His throat closed. He was shocked to feel tears sliding from his eyes.</p><p>“Sorry,” he whispered. He laughed drily. “What a pair we are: you crying because you don’t want to marry a witcher. And me crying because I do.”</p><p>“Oh Julek,” said Essi. “He is so lucky to have your heart, whether he knows it or not.”</p><p>He pursed his lips and nodded. Even though he knew that he couldn’t bring Eskel the glory and prestige that their world valued, his rebellious heart still agreed with her. If given the chance, he could offer Eskel a great love. He could offer him a love that would make sure he never wanted for anything.</p><p>Then Essi clapped so suddenly that Jaskier jumped, startled by the noise. “Oh we are idiots,” she cried. “True morons.”</p><p>Jaskier shrugged. “I know. But why this time?”</p><p>“Because!” said Essi. “You deserve a chance to dance with Eskel. To tell him how you feel. You should be at the masquerade, not me.”</p><p>“I’m not going to tell him how I feel.” That was a non starter.</p><p>“Well you should dance with him anyway.”</p><p>“In case you can’t tell, I am not a magical noble lady,” said Jaskier. “And that is who is invited to the masquerade.”</p><p>“So?” challenged Essi. “You must go to the masquerade as me! You get what you want, I get what I want.”</p><p>Jaskier chuckled. “Very funny.”</p><p>“I’m serious!!” Insisted Essi.</p><p>“Look at me dear,” said Jaskier. He gestured to his body in a sweep of his hands. “I’m tall. Broad shouldered. Hairy as an otter. You’re a tiny little slip of a thing. How in merciful Melitele’s sweet bosom would I pass for you?”</p><p>Essi popped up from the bed and began pacing in front of him.</p><p>“They don’t know me!” said Essi. She gesticulated wildly. “No one in that party has ever seen me. All you have to do is take my invitation and pass as a woman. And women come in all shapes and sizes. In any kind of body. Broad and skinny. Hairy and smooth. Women don’t have to look any certain way.”</p><p>“Your father won’t allow it dear,” said Jaskier. He wasn’t going to let her pull him into the joy and hope of this scenario. There were too many people to fool.</p><p>“He’s gone for the night!” cried Essi. “He doesn’t have to know! You take the coach and the invitation. And come back before midnight.”</p><p>“And your chaperone?” Asked Jaskier.</p><p>“Nenneke?” said Essi laughing, “She <em>hates</em> my dad. She’ll go along with it. Please Jaskier. Please please please. I don’t want to be looked at by men. I don’t want to be trotted around with my--” she pointed at her chest “--<em>you know</em> out.” She pulled up on her dress uncomfortably. “I just want to be here at home. You go and I’ll sit at home and eat cookies in my pajamas. I’ll be happy, and you’ll be happy.”</p><p>Jaskier sighed. “Darling. Why would I be happy going to watch him pick a bride? He won’t pick me. It won’t be me. Even in a mask. And if he did, once I was revealed, it would all be lost.”</p><p>Jaskier expected Essi’s face to fall as she accepted his persuasive logic. It did not.</p><p>“So? Look.” She took both of his hands. She clasped them tight and looked into his eyes. “If you could even just dance once with the man you love...isn’t that an experience you want to have in your life? Not everyone gets to do that. A vital life experience, that is.”</p><p>Essi knew him well. Jaskier approached life with a zeal for experiences. He wanted to live it all. Whether it was trying every meal. Meeting every kind of person. She knew he wanted to see the continent. Vital life experiences, he called them.</p><p>Essi knew he couldn’t resist the idea that this could be a precious, solitary experience that he would cherish. That he would never forget.</p><p>She knew she’d gotten him when his shoulders relaxed. She noticed the slight movement because she knew him so well. She grinned and bounced on her feet.</p><p>“Yes,” she mouthed joyfully.</p><p>“Your dress won’t even fit me,” he said flatly, still trying to manage both of their expectations.</p><p>“It doesn’t have to be my dress,” Essi said. She was absolutely unflappable. “What about your mother’s dress? Her wedding dress? Remember, it has a massive train? We could use that as extra cloth to let it out. AND to make a matching mask. We’ve made a million masks. And you would look magnificent. Can you imagine? With your coloring? With your eyes? You would be ravishing.”</p><p>Jaskier had always loved wearing gowns. They made him feel majestic. Even the makeshift ones he and Essi had sewn for him over the years for their masquerade games had made him feel elegant.</p><p>He also remembered his mother’s dress well. It was lovely. It was a creamy ivory satin that almost felt like flower petals. But he didn’t have access to it. And he didn’t know if he wanted to wear it. He couldn’t begin to predict the emotions it would provoke in him, and whether he could manage them.</p><p>He cleared his throat and said dismissively, “your father locked my mother’s things away from me. I suspect he magically warded it as well, just so I couldn’t get to it. My bet is he’ll auction it all off someday.”</p><p>Jaskier absently picked at his trousers. Essi covered his hands with hers and he looked up.</p><p>“He didn’t ward it against me.” Essi smiled wickedly. “He <em>trusts</em> me.” Then she grew serious. “Well, he thinks I’m a simpleton is more like it.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, but he’s an idiot. You’re brilliant,” said Jaskier. “You’re brilliant and I love you for trying to help. You are the best sister on the continent. But I don’t want you to get in trouble,” said Jaskier.</p><p>“I don’t care,” said Essi decisively. “Wait here.”</p><p>And before Jaskier could say another word, Essi practically flew from the room and slammed the door behind her.</p><p>---</p><p>Stregobor had put locks on the outside of Essi’s room to better control her. So as much as Jaskier wanted to chase her and stop her, he was locked in.</p><p>And part of him didn’t want to stop her at all. The part of him that hoped, was happy to wait.</p><p>So he waited. He thought half heartedly of all the ways he would tell her no, the gown wouldn’t work, and the plan was off. But his mutinous mind was already imagining his dance with Eskel.</p><p>He could see him in his mind almost as clear as day: Eskel bowing gallantly and holding out his hand. Jaskier lowering his gloved hand into Eskel’s. Eskel looking at him as though he were a beautiful thing, clutching his waist, and spinning him around the room. One night. One dance. A memory he would cherish for the rest of his days.</p><p>By the time Essi burst back in with a wild grin on her face and with his mother’s gown gathered in her arms, Jaskier had run out of reasons not to do it. When she thrust the mountains of fabric at him, all he could do was smile back.</p><p>They hustled to the well organized sewing room in the east wing of the house, and spent the next few hours working feverishly. They both adored playing dress up growing up, even when they weren’t playing masquerade. Like many small girls, Essi liked to play princess and had dragged her good natured brother into the game. When she had offered to make him a suit, he had realized he wanted to wear a gown as well. So they had sewn many gowns growing up. Between the two of them, they were as good as any experienced seamstress.</p><p>They cut and measured. They let out the bodice and fashioned a longer skirt underneath. They added a few ruffles and some lace edging.</p><p>Jaskier insisted that he didn’t actually want to be recognized so they devised more items to mask his identity, like a cloak, gloves, and a mask that covered most of his face and feathers that puffed up from its upper edges to curl around his head and mask his hair.</p><p>They worked like the dickens in perfect harmony.</p><p>And when the dress was done, Essi ordered Jaskier to quickly bathe and shave. There was nothing quick about him shaving, but for the sake of the ruse, he shaved almost everything. Then Essi insisted that she do his makeup before he put the dress on, so it didn’t drip onto the fabric.</p><p>They sat, crammed together on the bed, her breath puffing on his face, making hmmmmm noises and grunting as she wiped, swiped, and blended.</p><p>“Close your eyes.” and “Open your eyes.” then “Purse your lips.” and “Smooth your lips.”</p><p>Finally, Essi and Jaskier hauled the dress and everything that went with it into her room.</p><p>She dragged a stool in front of a full length mirror so she could help him into the dress.</p><p>“Well?” She said. Her voice was full of excitement and her eyes shone with pride.</p><p>Jaskier dropped the robe he was wearing from the bath. He had on only underthings, so Essi theatrically covered her eyes as he stepped into the stunning gown and pulled it up under his armpits.</p><p>“Ok,” he said.</p><p>Essi opened her eyes and gasped. She clapped, and as she did, she bounced such that she almost fell off of the stool.</p><p>He turned to look in the full length mirror and caught his breath.</p><p>Essi squealed. “See? You look gorgeous!! Oh my, you’re so beautiful and handsome and anyone would be an absolute ninny, and absolute buffoon if he didn’t see that.”</p><p>Jaskier couldn’t help himself. He laughed.</p><p>He did look gorgeous, he had to admit. His shoulders and biceps were sculpted but soft. He was broad and he tapered into a narrow waist and hips. He hadn’t put on the mask yet, so he could admire the glimmer of silver on his eyelids and the effect of the rouge on his face. It made his face look flushed and glowing. Essi had chosen a red stain for his lips and they plumped them out pleasingly.</p><p>As he admired himself, a surprising wave of emotions regarding his mother hit him. He was shocked to realize that it was mostly pride.</p><p>He slid his fingers, still pruny from the bath, down the satiny skirt. He had tried so hard to block all memory of her out. He had allowed Stregobor to take everything of hers from him. It had been easier to cope that way. But suddenly, he remembered what she looked like: she had been petite, with a fair delicate face and burnt umber hair, always perfectly in place. She was truly beautiful with sculpted downturned lips and large upturned eyes.</p><p>He wondered if she would feel proud that he wore her gown.</p><p>“Now, a surprise,” said Essi.</p><p>Jaskier whipped his head around and watched his little sister pull out a glimmering sapphire necklace. She had tucked it away in her skirts. It glittered like a star in the sky.</p><p>“Holy shit that is stunning,” he breathed.</p><p>“Turn around,” she said. Essi swung the necklace gently around Jaskier’s neck and fastened it.</p><p>He touched it and felt a slight, pleasing vibration.</p><p>“This is hers?” He whispered.</p><p>“Yes, it was in a box under the dress,” said Essi. “And she was your mother, so this is yours.”</p><p>All these years, he’d tried so hard to not think of his mother. And here he was. In her dress. In her jewelry. Wondering if she’d be proud of him.</p><p>Essi helped him slip on the gloves, the cape, and the mask. Then she retrieved her invitation from her skirts. She held it out to him, and he took it. The paper was luxe and creamy. On it was the stamp of the witcher’s council.</p><p>“It’s really happening,” he breathed.</p><p>“It is really happening,” agreed Essi. She squeezed him tight. She had already changed into her pajamas and had snacked as he bathed, so she smelled slightly of cookies.</p><p>She opened the door of her room and Jaskier gathered his skirts to squeeze through it. Once in the hall, he released them and they fluttered and swung around him pleasingly. He did one spin, as he did as a child, watching his skirts rise, then fall.</p><p>He grinned to himself.</p><p>Then he looked up. What he saw chilled his blood. Stregobor stood at the end of the hall, eyes glinting with rage.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dum da dum dum. D:</p><p>So instead of forest animals helping him sew a dress (Going by the animated movie. Sorry it's the only one I've seen) it's his little sister Essi. Let me know what you think in the comments. I'll meet you there.</p><p>Also, I do want to point out that my Jaskier in this fic is much more humble and sensible than I normally write him. LMAO. But I'm just having fun imagining what he would be growing up in entirely different circumstances and in this context.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Secrets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jaskier and Essi’s plan is thwarted when Stregobor discovers them trying to sneak Jaskier out for the masquerade.<br/>——</p><p>Stregobor was soon close enough to spit on them. His white hair was coiffed and the tips of his mustache were waxed into curls. </p><p>“Father, I can explain!” Essi had a lightness to her voice, but it was false and it grated.</p><p>Stregobor raised his palm to silence her. He didn’t look at her though. He was far more interested in appraising Jaskier. “Take off that mask.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Folks. You know the basic idea here. There is a reason Cinderella needed a fairy godmother.</p><p>But I do want to warn you about some content specific to this fic and this chapter.</p><p>CONTENT TRIGGER WARNINGS PLEASE READ: Stregobor is the bad guy. He is a misogynist. He mentions the concept of rape. He mentions menstruation. Though there is nothing specifically mentioned about trans people, defining women according to their ability to menstruate isn’t just misogynistic. It’s transphobic. He’s a really shitty person.</p><p>He is cruel, and it’s awful being stuck with a cruel parent. He also uses a mind altering charm on Essi to basically ‘calm’ her.</p><p>There is also extensive discussion of a deceased parent though that’s in the tags and is implicit in a Cinderella story.</p><p>So this could be a tough chapter. Please mind your triggers. But I *can* promise you that it will all be resolved by the end of the  fic. Only happy endings here, meaning asshole misogynists will always pay by the end of my stories.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A cold shock buzzed through Jaskier and he wrenched to a stop.  Essi hadn’t seen her father yet. She hummed as she closed the door behind them. It clicked shut and she turned, bumping into Jaskier. </p><p>“Watch it,” she squealed, nudging him in annoyance.</p><p>Then she saw Stregobor. She made a surprised wheezing noise, and snapped to attention next to her brother.</p><p>He walked slowly towards them, head high, long formal robes brushing the woven rugs. The torches in the hallway glinted warmly off of the golden threads running along his hems, and the golden rings stuffed onto his hands. His face was pinched and angry.</p><p>Jaskier’s heart sank lower with every step Stregobor took. Visions of the masquerade evaporated. Joy drained from him, leaving despair and hardness. There was no fighting the man, Jaskier had learned that the hard way. Stregobor always used his love for Essi, his money, or the power of the mage’s council against him. He was just a stable boy, and he lost every fight.</p><p>Essi tensed up next to him. She desperately tried to read her father’s expression, but it was no help at all.  </p><p>Stregobor was soon close enough to spit on them. His white hair was coiffed and the tips of his mustache were waxed into curls. </p><p>“Father, I can explain!” Essi had a lightness to her voice, but it was false and it grated.</p><p>Stregobor raised his palm to silence her. He didn’t look at her though. He was far more interested in appraising Jaskier. “Take off that mask.”</p><p>Jaskier slowly pushed the mask onto the top of his head. Stregobor wrinkled his nose as if he were rating a piglet at the fair. He leaned back to take in the entire picture. His eyes flickered with viciousness and amusement. </p><p>Jaskier’s lipstick and eyeliner felt heavy. His mother’s gown was suddenly stiff on his skin. Essi threaded her fingers through his and squeezed his hand. It did little to soothe him. </p><p>“Oh,” said Stregobor with a contrived calm, “is that what you think? You think you’re going to the masquerade?” </p><p>Jaskier cast around for words, but his customary wit evaded him. Everything Essi had convinced him of: that he was stunning like this, that this was a good plan, that he deserved to have happiness in Eskel’s arms even if just for the night...it all collapsed like a house of cards. His acid tongue, his petty retorts, everything that usually came second nature to him, abandoned him. He was silent. He simmered with rage, but his tongue failed him.</p><p>Essi tried again to pierce the tension. “Weren’t you supposed to be at a dinner, father?” She was used to being in the trenches between the battlements of her powerful father and her beloved brother. She hated it. But she was used to it.</p><p>Stregobor did not relent in his stare. He kept it trained on Jaskier.</p><p>“I was,” he said flatly. “But do you know what happened?”</p><p>“What?” asked Essi. Jaskier shifted in his formal heels. </p><p>“I was at an important dinner,” said Stregobor, “between a Nilfgaardian diplomat and a duchess, eating the finest oysters.” He raised his voice like an especially arrogant professor giving a lecture. “But the funny thing was, I couldn’t relax. Imagine! I couldn’t concentrate on this conversation so vital to political affairs.” He clasped his hands behind his back and lifted his chin. “All I could think of was you blubbering in your dress. A little voice in me said go home. Make sure she gets in her carriage. So I called my carriage around. I left the party. And do you know the saddest part? Do you?”</p><p>He waited in silence until Essi answered. The ticking of a far away clock clicked a few times before she answered.</p><p>“No,” said Essi. </p><p>“The saddest part is, that all the way home I argued with myself. Essi is a good girl.  Essi wouldn’t disobey or defy me. After all, I am her father. I love her more than anyone. I am the one housing her, educating her, and ensuring her an advantageous marriage that will suit her best interests. But alas. I was right to return.”</p><p>“We’re just playing dress up, father,” insisted Essi weakly.</p><p>He finally looked directly at her, eyes boring into her. “Liar.” The word left his lips like an arrow from a dryad’s bow. They hid their mark. Her face crumpled. “You were disobeying me. Defying me.”</p><p>Essi shrunk reflexively. Seeing her shoulders round and her face slump was what Jaskier needed to find his tongue...to find his fire. It came roaring back in an instant.</p><p>“She doesn’t want to go,” said Jaskier. “She’s just a child.” He squared his shoulders.</p><p>Stregobor didn’t deign to look at him.</p><p>“Doesn’t he know you’ve had your period, Essi?” An embarrassed squeak came from her mouth.  Stregobor continued anyway. “That means you’re a woman now.”</p><p>“Be kind, father,” said Essi. She used her sweetest voice to plead with him. “I’ll go next masquerade. I’ll be twenty three. I’ll be ready.”</p><p>Stregobor snorted. “You’ll be an old maid by then,” he sneered. “No one of any importance will want you. You’ll go now. Tonight. And you’ll put aside your pathetic childishness. It no longer suits you.”  </p><p>Essi swallowed down a rising lump in her throat. She squeezed Jaskier’s hand. The tapestries with Stregobor’s face seemed to stare down at them.</p><p>“She’s not pathetic,” said Jaskier. When the words came out, they were almost a shout. Stregobor ignored him again.</p><p>“Essi,” Stregobor said, in a tone so patronizing that it made Jaskier want to murder him, “it’s perfectly natural to be afraid. We can say it out loud.” He gestured airly. “What you truly fear in matching with a husband, is sex. I’m glad! That means I’ve raised you well. No wellborn woman wants to have sex. But it’s your role as a wife. At first you’ll grin and bear it. But with time it will bring you dignity, honor, and children. It’s the way it has always been done.” He looped his hand in a magnanimous flourish.</p><p>“She’s not a woman. She’s a girl,” Jaskier gritted out. “Menstruation doesn’t make a woman.” He didn’t normally talk of these private things, but Stregobor had brought it up. Jaskier gathered Essi under his arm. Her cheek pressed against his satin wrap. “She isn’t ready. And it should be up to her to decide when and if she ever is.”</p><p>Stregobor snapped to look at him this time. His nose and forehead gleamed with sweat, and the twitch of his eye betrayed the emotion roiling beneath. Flecks of food in his beard betrayed his lack of care in rushing to get home. He stepped closer and hissed low and controlled. </p><p>“How dare you put these ideas in her head.” His eyes narrowed. “What is your angle here, boy?”</p><p>“She doesn’t want to go,” retorted Jaskier. “I’m defending her decision. It’s as simple as that.”</p><p>“Oh please,” said Stregobor, laughing bitterly. “I know what this is. It’s jealousy. I mean, look at you.” He gestured at Jaskier’s body. “You’re trembling with joy at the prospect of taking the spotlight from her. All under the false guise of protecting her. And the simpleton can’t see she’s being manipulated.”</p><p>“She’s not a simpleton,” hissed Jaskier.</p><p>“It was my idea father!” protested Essi. She stamped her foot. “I begged him!”</p><p>Stregobor chuckled slowly and without mirth. “Sure,” he said. “Poor child. So gullible. So naive. I’ll bet this was his plan from the start.” His expression changed as though he had made a brilliant discovery. “Why didn’t I see it before?! All those days you two spent playing masquerade, all of that was him. His idea. He must be obsessed with the ball. After all, it’s a place he can swan around showing off. He was lying in wait, scheming for a way to take the invitation that he knew you would eventually receive.”</p><p>“No!” said Essi. “It was my idea!” she repeated. </p><p>Jaskier couldn’t say anything. He knew defending himself would only sound fake. Ridiculous. Especially standing there in all of his finery with an invitation in his hands.</p><p>Stregobor snorted derisively. “What did he tell you? That witchers have enormous cocks and like to rape the girls who want to try their hands for marriage?”</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes snapped to Stregobor, rage flickering in blue irises, anger thumping again in his chest. But Essi spoke before he could </p><p>“No!!” she cried. “He said the wolves are kind and gentle!”</p><p>“Oh did he. How droll.” Stregobor eyed Jaskier, amused.</p><p>“He works hard and they appreciate him,” said Essi defiantly. “And they love him.”</p><p>Jaskier cringed inwardly. He knew the idea sounded ridiculous.</p><p>Stregobor threw back his head and laughed. “I’ve learned so many new diverting things in this conversation.” He shook his head chuckling. “The masquerade game has always been the boy’s idea. And he thinks that the witchers love him.”  </p><p>Jaskier pictured strangling him.  He reminded himself for the millionth time that he couldn’t murder Essi’s father. “They respect me far more than you ever have,” he spat.</p><p>“Is that what you think?” asked Stregobor. “Is it? You think they respect you? Pathetic. You clean up the shit from underneath their horses with a pitchfork. And, oh I’m sure they find you attractive as well.” He snorted again. “I smell you when you come home reeking of manure. It’s positively irresistible.”</p><p>Jaskier felt his hot fury churn. But he couldn’t find words to deny it. He did clean up their horse’s shit. He did smell like manure. He just knew they were kind; that was all. He knew they were nothing like his vile stepfather. But beyond that, what could he claim?</p><p>“You’ll never go to the masquerade and you’ll never marry anyone of higher standing than the horses you tend,” finished Stregobor.</p><p>“Why do you say these horrible things, father!” demanded Essi. “He can marry who he chooses. He is handsome and has a lovely voice, and he’s smart. And he isn’t low born. His mother was a magnificent mage! She was an elegant lady. I remember her!”</p><p>Jaskier grew sick as he watched a smug smile spread on the mage’s face. Stregobor was going to tell Essi. </p><p>“Oh, ho ho,” Stregobor said with mock jocularity. “Hasn’t our dear Julian told you about his mother?”</p><p>Jaskier felt that he would crumble where he stood. </p><p>Jaskier hadn’t told Essi. He hadn’t told her why he changed his name to Jaskier at Kaer Morhen. He hadn’t shared with her the biggest reason that Eskel could never choose him, more significant even than the fact that he couldn’t bear Eskel children. The only person who knew about his mother’s identity was him and Strebobor. </p><p>Keeping the secret had been so lonely. It had hung over him like a tornado, churning darkly, waiting to suck away the life he had built at Kaer Morhen.</p><p>Essi looked puzzled. Jaskier’s misery multiplied exponentially. </p><p>“Leave her out of this,” he muttered.</p><p>“No, she should know this!” he insisted. He turned theatrically to Essi and held out a hand as instructing small child. “His mother, dear Essi, is the reason he hides his identity. His mother is the reason that the whole of Kaer Morhen would hate him if they knew who he was. Why do you think he hasn’t claimed his higher social standing in order to impress them?”</p><p>Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut.</p><p>“His mother,” continued Stregobor cruely, “was the one who plotted the attacks on Kaer Morhen. She’s the one who turned against them. She wanted to exterminate them all. It was going to be a witcher genocide. If they knew that, they would execute him, if he was lucky.”</p><p>“They wouldn’t,” said Jaskier, his voice dry. “They’d fire me but--”</p><p>“No?” asked Stregobor. “You think they’d just let you go? You don’t think it would seem suspicious that after your mother betrayed them, you slink around in their stables for years under a false name? You lied to them every day you came to work. You were probably gathering information on them so you could take up her unfinished business. That’s what they’d think.”</p><p>Essi’s mouth hung open in shock. She stuttered. “N--no. No. That’s not true. They wouldn’t!”</p><p>“Oh darling, that’s not how things work,” said Stregobor. “Witchers are hated and despised by anyone with sense. Sure, they’ve dressed themselves up and bribed the nobility with dowries and protection and fancy parties for entry into society. But they don’t belong. Not really. Good people still hate them. And they haven’t survived this public hatred by trusting the families of their enemies. Parents bequeath bigotry to their children. Contaminate them with it. Vesemir knows this well. Then he sealed his fate by lying to them.”</p><p>Essi looked at Jaskier. Compassion welled in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but Stregobor cut her off.</p><p>“But that’s enough,” said Stregobor, slicing the air with his palm. “Enough...amusement for one evening. Enough delay. I’m going to take you to the masquerade myself, not your useless nanny.” </p><p>“You’re going to take her?” asked Jaskier. He was incredulous. “I am her son, but you were her spouse. Surely you are also unwanted.”</p><p>Stregobor smirked. “Hardly. I’m the one that turned her in. I earned their trust. Besides,” he straightened his cuffs, “spouses come and go. You can divorce someone. But there is nothing you can do to change who your parents are. You can never go back in time and be born to someone else. Besides, I’m not the one that’s been lying to them and slinking around Kaer Morhen gathering information to take them down.”</p><p>“He has not!” shrieked Essi. “He would never!”</p><p>Jaskier’s mouth hung open as his mind whirred. Of course he was innocent. But he played out how his lies would look to the witchers. Is that what they would think? It sounded terrible when you said it that way. </p><p>“Calm down,” said Stregobor to Essi. "You’re going to forget about Julian and you’re going to the masquerade.” He raised his hands and muttered a spell. </p><p>Essi, who had been tucked protectively under Jaskier’s arm, was yanked away from him by an unseen force. One moment, he felt her warmth at his side. The next moment she was several feet away, suspended in the air. </p><p>In one sense, the action was shocking. The mage’s council prohibited using magic on your children without their consent. It was a part of the guidelines put in place when the matter of their fertility was resolved. </p><p>But in another sense it was not shocking. The reason Essi had not rebelled more was the constant latent fear of his power. He was not only a man who owned her legally, he was not only three times her size, he was also a man who could snap his fingers and kill a man with magic. </p><p>Jaskier froze from shock, but came to his senses and lunged for her. He hit a wall of magic and bounced off helplessly.</p><p>“Oh calm down, I’m not hurting her,” said Stregobor disdainfully between muttering incantations.</p><p>Jaskier frantically moved to get a good look at Essi’s face. Her eyes looked ahead, their blue pools tranquil. She looked serene. It didn’t look as though he was harming her. But it still felt wrong.</p><p>“Leave her alone,” said Jaskier.</p><p>Stregobor continued chanting. Jaskier lunged for him, but hit another wall of magic.  He stood powerless between them.</p><p>Then it was as though a prairie wind swept across Essi. Locks of her blonde hair lifted by a gale. She gasped in surprise. In an instant, her pajamas and the scent of cookies were gone. In their place was a skimpy elegant gown and a seductive perfume. Her hair, which had been in a simple ponytail, was swept up in an elegant chignon. Her face was aged with dark makeup.</p><p>She settled to the ground and looked around, stunned and confused.</p><p>“I’m also adding a bit of an extra spell, my dear,” said Stregobor. He lifted his hands again and muttered another incantation.  This time nothing happened other than Essi slumping almost imperceptibly and the look of confusion changing to a look of placid happiness. “There. Just to help you find your courage. I’m sorry to have to resort to this but It’s for your own good. You’ll thank me later, when you’re married and happy with your own children on your knee.”</p><p>Essi blinked. </p><p>“What did you do to her?” Cried Jaskier. He grasped her hand. It sat in his palm limp and cool.</p><p>“Go to the carriage,” said Stregobor.</p><p>“Yes, father,” said Essi. Her hand slipped from Jaskier’s, and she walked away from him, disappearing down the hall.</p><p>“Wait!” he called after her. She didn’t so much as glance backwards. She walked obediently down the hall until Jaskier lost sight of her.</p><p>He couldn’t let this go. Stregobor had done something to her. Jaskier balled up his fists and stepped closer to the mage. He knew anything he did would only make matters worse. He knew that he had no power that could compare to the mage’s. But the words burst from his chest through the grinding of his teeth.</p><p>“You treat her like a doll, not a human,” said Jaskier, glaring at him with all the viciousness he could summon. “It isn’t right. She’s brilliant. She’s passionate. She’s brave.” He sputtered. “How dare you enchant her against her will!”</p><p>Stregobor looked at him, entirely unimpressed and unthreatened. He idly brushed lint off of his robe. “Women don’t need to be any of those things,” he said. “Women need to be pretty and pliant. And the charm I put on her will make her both. It will give her an advantage over the other girls”</p><p>“What the fuck did you do,” demanded Jaskier. Spittle flew from his mouth and every muscle in his body tensed like a bowstring. Stregobor rolled his eyes.</p><p>“So melodramatic. That charm is a classic. Parents who can afford a mage’s services have used it for almost a century. It isn’t sinister. It makes her emit pheromones, which in our case is especially advantageous since witchers are exceptionally sensitive to them. And it makes her unable to say no. She will feel agreeable to everything. Suggestible. Pliant. It isn’t traumatic. She’ll just obey.”</p><p>“How dare you!” hissed Jaskier. </p><p>“Why do you care?” said Stregobor. “If they are such gentlemen, as you say, then it won’t matter.”</p><p>Jaskier felt the fingernails digging in hard. His anger was such that he thought he might explode. He shoved it down hard until he felt that he could speak intelligible words.</p><p>“That’s not the point,” he said. Each word came out in an angry staccato. “She’s a human being. It’s degrading to take her free choice.”</p><p>“Oh you sound just like your mother,” said Stregobor. “Overwrought idealism. Idiocy.”</p><p>“At least I’m not like you,” said Jaskier. “You don’t deserve to be Essi’s father. You don’t deserve to breathe her air.”</p><p>Red seeped into his vision. He had never felt hatred like this. </p><p>“Watch your tone boy,” said Stregobor. “I can kick you out of this house and you’ll never see my daughter again. You don’t even share any of her blood. You have no claim to her. You aren’t even her real family.”</p><p>“You don’t know the meaning of family,” said Jaskier. Jaskier had to believe that family was more than blood. He had to. Otherwise, he was alone in the world. Otherwise he belonged to no one.</p><p>“I’ll show you what I know.” Stregobor still sounded bored but there was a glint of steel in his voice. He held up a finger. “I know that you are nothing and nobody.” He held up another finger. “And I know that you will no longer defy me under my own roof. And third,” he held up a third finger. “I know that this,” he waved his hands at Jaskier’s body, “harebrained, manipulative, scheme is going to fail. I will make sure of it.  You don’t get to steal the spotlight from my Essi.”</p><p>Stregobor’s words were beginning to penetrate Jaskier’s rage. He felt the threat in them, he sensed that they had real purpose. But Jaskier was too blinded by emotions to put together what Stregobor intended to do to prevent him from going.</p><p>Until it was too late.</p><p>“I’m sure this is the only formal gown on the continent that fits you,” said Stregobor.</p><p>Stregobor’s intentions crystallized in his mind clearly.</p><p>“No, no, no, no please,” whispered Jaskier. “NO!” he shouted. “I won’t go!! I promise! Just don’t--”</p><p>He held out his hands protectively. Sometimes minds are like that. They know that arms can’t stop magic, but they instinctively act out of desperation.</p><p>“Don’t hurt your mother’s dress?” sneered Stregobor. “The mother you’re ashamed of? The mother you’ve been hiding? Spare me your crocodile tears. I would respect you more if you were spying on Kaer Morhen to avenge her.”</p><p>If you had told Jaskier just that morning that he would lose his mother’s dress, it would have been sad, but it would’ve been nothing he couldn’t handle. Part of him had wanted to forget her as it was.</p><p>But now? Now that he had lovingly sewn it to fit his body? Now that he had stepped into it and pulled it up around his body? Now that he had allowed himself to think about her and wonder whether she would be proud of him? </p><p>It was different now. His stomach lurched at the thought. He watched Stregobor lift his hands as though in slow motion. Horror tore through his body and he cried out as he turned to run. He couldn’t outrun magic. But he had to try.</p><p>He wasn’t fast enough. </p><p>He heard Stregobor muttering behind him and he felt his skin burning. He lurched to a stop and looked down just in time to see a flame catch on the hem of his dress. He hunched down and squatted, trying to put it out. It wasn’t a real flame. His mind knew it. But he couldn’t stop himself. He patted and patted, but the flame flitted up his body, browning and curling as though held to a flame.</p><p>Stregobor muttered and chanted and Jaskier’s face was rigid in horror as he watched the very last possession he had of his mother’s crumble and crisp and hang in tattered ruins from his body. </p><p>The flame stopped at the bodice, so that it didn’t fall off his body entirely. It was still held fast. But the bodice was brown and crinkly, the beading melted against the crispy fabric.</p><p>“That was my mother’s dress,” he whispered. Tears spilled from his eyes now. He had never cried in front of Stregobor, which was a point of pride. But it had been a long day, and watching his mother’s dress crumble broke something in him that he hadn’t known was there to be broken.</p><p>Jaskier leapt up as though possessed by a banshee. Though his underthings were still in place, the pieces of his skirts covered little else. But he didn’t notice. He surged forward, fingers twitching to wrap around Stregobor’s neck. He wanted to strangle him. Stregobor’s eyes widened in shock but his hand shot out in time, blasting magic in his defense. Jaskier was struck paralyzed where he stood. Every single muscle in his body went lax. He had no control. Not any more.</p><p>Stregobor stepped closer, his shoes softly thudding on the rugs, until their noses almost touched. He breathed hot and angry, but there was a look of triumph in his eyes too. There was nothing Jaskier could do but stare back into his furious face. “How dare you attack me, in my own home?” he growled. “How dare you! The only reason I won’t kill you is because my tender hearted, gullible daughter would never speak to me again. But someday she’ll see you for what you are. Now get out of my house, and never come back. I don’t care where you go.”</p><p>The door behind him blew open. Stregobor shot out his arms. Jaskier was blown backwards with the force of a hurricane. The hallway was a blur around him as he shot backwards, then the cold air hit him as he blew into the night.</p><p>Jaskier slammed onto the ground on his back, and he skidded backwards on the gravel, rolling and tumbling, gravel tearing at his skin. He scrambled for purchase and failed. He finally rolled to a stop. He looked up dizzily to find Stregobor, who stood in the doorframe.</p><p> “I’m sure the whorehouse is hiring,” spat Stregobor. Then he slammed the door behind him with a crash.</p><p>Jaskier hazed out of consciousness from the force of the fall, but he heard the parting missive.</p><p>Moments later, as consciousness crept back to him, shame and humiliation weighed in the pit of his stomach like a stone. He began shaking from rage. From grief. From loss. His eyes fluttered open, then closed again. </p><p>He was still disoriented.</p><p>The carriages pulled up on the other side of the house where the main road passed by their home. Stregobor had left with Essi from that entrance as Jaskier lay there, struggling to regain full consciousness.</p><p>This door the Stregobor had thrown him out of, opened onto a narrow path that led to a side road. His mother used to let him walk in front of her down this path on market days. He hadn’t thought about that in so long. He squeezed his eyes closed harder. He could see her beautifully tailored maroon dress clear as day. He couldn’t see her face, which bothered him. No matter how hard he tried, her face was slightly fuzzy. But he remembered her voice. </p><p>He remembered that he used to run ahead of her so that he could pick up pretty stones. Those same stones were under his back now, pushing into his scraped up back. They had turned on him and torn him as he slid across them, blown away from his home by the man his mother had chosen.</p><p>He opened his eyes. The pathway was lined with towering oaks that were leaning down over him. He used to climb them, scamper up them, and sit on the branching trunks to sing at the sky. The trees were his friends, weren’t they? Their branches rustled as though asking what had happened to him. </p><p>“I’m fine,” he croaked. He didn’t know why he said that. He wasn’t fine. He didn’t have a home anymore. His mother’s dress lay in ruins. He would never...could never dance with Eskel. The trees seemed to accept the answer nevertheless.</p><p>The sky was darkening and a pathway of stars sprinkled between the row of branches in the night sky. His eyes darted up and down the sky path above him. He wasn’t looking for anything, just casting around like a distressed animal, waiting for his body to calm and focus.</p><p>But he did find something. A cluster of stars caught his eyes. He recognized them.</p><p>That night when he and Eskel had lain on the grass and stared at the night sky, Eskel had taught him about constellations.</p><p>Jaskier had gone to school, so he wasn’t entirely ignorant about the natural sciences. But no one knew astronomy like a witcher. They used the heavenly bodies to guide him on the path year round.</p><p>Eskel had pointed at this grouping of stars. Lupus, he called it. Wolf.</p><p>Jaskier focused on the constellation as though it had the power to save him. He centered his breathing and steadily gazed at the points of light.</p><p>With effort, Jaskier recalled the memory of laying beside Eskel in the grass. He could see Eskel’s face clearly. He let the expression in Eskel’s eyes and the rumbling quality of his voice ricochet through him and take root in his soul.</p><p>“Did you know that it takes years for their light to reach us?” Eskel had asked. “The ones farthest away, anyhow.”</p><p>He hadn’t known.</p><p>“It’s like a message,” Eskel had continued, “that stays with us long after they’ve gone.”</p><p>It had felt like a beautiful thing. Stars found ways to leave us with love and beauty long after they were gone. He wished his mother could talk to him. He wished she could have left a message for him...something that would make him feel less fucking lost.</p><p>He focused on the fact that Eskel, beautiful Eskel, had taken the time to explain the stars to him. People didn’t do that unless you mattered to them.  </p><p>And you’ve lied to him every day that you’ve known him, a nasty voice said in his head. He ignored it. He had to get up.</p><p>Jaskier moved for the first time and grasped for the remnants of his dress. He rubbed his face with them to wipe the snot and tears away.</p><p>He found the will to pull himself to a sitting position. His fingers scrambled around on the top of his head.  The mask was gone. It must have fallen off in the hall when Stregobor threw him backwards. He looked at the door, but even he knew by now that it would be warded against him. He wouldn’t be getting back in that house.</p><p>He pulled himself up and stood on shaky legs. He couldn’t lay here forever. Someone would eventually come by. He surveyed the area around him. He saw the mask laying on the steps of the door. He picked it up and brushed it off.</p><p>A little golden J had been stitched onto the strap.</p><p>Essi.</p><p>As his thoughts came more into focus, he remembered. </p><p>The spell.</p><p>He was fully conscious and oriented now.</p><p>Stregobor had put a spell on Essi. Something that had taken away her free will. Jaskier thought of how frightening it had to be to not be able to express how you felt. To not be able to say no. She was probably terrified and trapped inside her own body. </p><p>She needed him.</p><p>Perhaps his friends at Kaer Morhen would turn on him if they knew. Perhaps. Probably. But Essi never would. And unlike his friends at Kaer Morhen, he hadn’t failed her. Yet.</p><p>Jaskier looked at the stars and resolved that he would not leave her now. He wouldn’t allow her to be frightened and alone. He would go to Kaer Morhen and help her. Stregobor would be at the masquerade and could expose Jaskier for who he really was. But he would deal with that when he came to it.</p><p>Jaskier brushed the gravel from his thighs. He could feel hot, stinging scrapes covering his back and the back of his legs. He rubbed his arm across his face to dry the last of the snot. His makeup streaked and dribbled down his face, and his dress was filthy and ribboned. He looked like a ghost boy from tales of nightmares. </p><p>But Jaskier was made of sterner stuff than he knew. He had survived so much more than he understood. And the most powerful weapon that he had in his arsenal was his ability to love - fearlessly and stubbornly.</p><p>And he would die before he failed the only person who loved him exactly as he was. Not when he could help. He knew the witchers. He could get up the mountain and tell them that she was a child. That she needed help. They knew mages that could take off the charm.</p><p>If Stregobor exposed him, so be it. Though he would certainly do his best to avoid that fate.</p><p>“Sister. My Little Eye. I’m coming,” he whispered into the night air.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for sticking with me folks. What do you think of the big reveal? I’ll meet you in the comments ♥️</p><p>Next chapter tomorrow.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. What Comes Down Must Go Back Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jaskier tackles his first challenge. Getting back up the mountain to Kaer Morhen. The gondola Draakul, looks a little different, and Lambert is working security.</p><p>------</p><p>“Lambert. Please don’t make me explain--”</p><p>“You can go home,” said Lambert. He was so close now, Jaskier could smell the sandalwood soap on the witcher. Usually he just smelled like sweat and leather. “Just relax. Have a beer. Whack off. Whatever.”</p><p>“I can’t!” hissed Jaskier.</p><p>“You can’t whack off?” frowned Lambert.</p><p>“NO!” said Jaskier. “I mean yes. I mean, I can’t go home.”</p><p>“Why. Not?” asked Lambert. Bald concern crept into his voice, but he looked as stony as every.</p><p>“I don’t. I don’t have one anymore,” said Jaskier. The last words drifted away as his throat closed on him. He breathed through his nose slowly.</p><p>Lambert’s eyebrows shot up but he remained silent.</p><p>“--and I...I need—” Jaskier lowered his voice, but it trembled despite his efforts “--I need help.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier rode hard for the gondola, pushing Pegasus harder than he ever had. His mind was occupied with Essi, vulnerable and unprotected. He needed to get to her. The shredded ribbons of his dress fluttered behind him like burnt rice paper, exposing his legs and his flanks to the wind. Black ash streaked down his hips and up his arms.</p><p>He didn’t know it yet, but the gondola, his trusty Draakul, would be unrecognizable when he reached it again. In the hours since he’d last seen it, it had been utterly transformed. </p><p>The masquerade at Kaer Morhen was the most coveted invitation on the continent for more than one reason. Yes, it represented the opportunity to strengthen a family’s standing. It was also a legendary spectacle. Some mages were ashamed that their kind had been ringleaders in the plot against Kaer Morhen. One way they assuaged that shame was to help the witchers create illusions for the masquerade that rivaled even those found in elven lands. It had become a way for them to compete, show off their talents, and even establish bragging rights.</p><p>Jaskier knew that the sorceresses had adorned and embellished Kaer Morhen but he didn’t know yet the magic they had bestowed upon Draakul.</p><p>He strained and squinted into the distance, the cold air pushed tears from the corners of his eyes to streak across his temples.  His horse’s hooves clattered, but the loudest noise in his ears was his own heaving. </p><p>When the gondola came into view, Jaskier sucked in his breath and leaned back in his saddle. The sight of the gondola filled his chest to bursting with wonder. The muscles in his horse’s neck jumped in shock at the sight. Jaskier pulled Pegasus to a slow trot. </p><p>Draakul was no longer Draakul. </p><p>It was no longer a routine metal contraption in a practical square shape with tapered ends. It was now a magical carriage...a glowing sphere, with elegant embellishments and a glittering door in the center. </p><p>As he grew closer, Jaskier could see two two softly luminescent white horses with flapping wings hitched to the front of the carriage. They stamped and whinnied majestically. They were illusory horses. Their coats shone with channeled chaos and their eyes glittered galaxies. </p><p>The cable that connected the gondola to the lines strung up the mountain had been blotted out by magic. Once it began to move, it would look as though a flying carriage was delivering the honored guests to the masquerade.</p><p>He hadn’t even considered how the guests would arrive, but this made sense. The witchers wouldn’t force their guests to ride horses up in the cold where they would surely be lost and freeze to death in some ivy covered cave halfway up the mountain. And such an illusion was grand. It was a brilliant idea. </p><p>Once again, Jaskier felt proud to play some small part in the majesty of Kaer Morhen. Though now he suspected he didn’t deserve it. And after tonight, who knew if he would have it at all. But he couldn’t worry about that. It would dilute his focus. He needed to get on that gondola and find Essi.</p><p>The night had grown dark, but the carriage created a bubble of light that provoked awe. It was no wonder that townsfolk had gathered to gawk. Kaer Morhen was organized and prepared to manage them. Security guards on loan for the night had roped off a large circle around the magical carriage. They stood interspersed up and down the boundary to keep back the small curious crowd.</p><p>Jaskier slid off Pegasus. His heeled shoes hit the ground and his ankles teetered before righting themselves. He hunched his shoulders and tugged the filthy bodice up to cover as much of his chest as he could. He was vaguely aware of the hot feeling of scrapes on his back and bruises and his hips and arms.  He rearranged his tattered skirt over his hips to prevent any obscenity.  His thighs and legs remained exposed. Covering them was impossible with what he had left.</p><p>He knew the sight of him was going to shock anyone who saw him. But he couldn’t let that stop him. Essi needed him. He kept her face in his mind, he watched it go slack again and again in response to Stregobor’s spell. That’s what he had to do to show himself to others in his current state.</p><p>And in truth, Jaskier did look filthy and haunted; like a ghost that would visit you in your dreams if you built your house on an elven burial ground.  </p><p>There was a stable closeby where Kaer Morhen staff boarded their steeds before climbing onto the gondola. Jaskier walked Pegasus to it. He wobbled as he walked because his shoes were not designed for the gravel and pockmarked dirt around the stables.  He left Pegasus there with a bucket of water and returned to look at the carriage. </p><p>He positioned himself behind the gathered townsfolk. They all had their backs to him, but he recognized a few voices. The banker who handled his payments from Kaer Morhen had his little daughter on his shoulders. She squealed and pointed at the horses.  A boy he recognized as a friend of Essi’s had already named the horses and was asking his mother whether she thought they pooped rainbows. For these children it was a dream come true, a family outing they'll always remember. Essi should be there, gawping at the horses. Not being spirited up the mountain to be auctioned off.</p><p>Jaskier rubbed his arms briskly in the crisp night air and hissed as one of his fingers caught on bruising. Then he stood on his toes to peer at the carriage. Since he was taller than pretty much everyone, his line of sight was clear.  </p><p>There was one opening in the roped circle. Winding through it was a short line of guests. Several stunning young women waited to step into Draakul. Their gowns were sumptuous. Pastels were the current rage, and the pink chiffon, lavender taffeta, and butter velvet favored by the ladies in line seemed designed for riding the softly radiant carriage, which was the color of an aquamarine. The younger women had chaperones who were dressed smartly and subdued. </p><p>His hands instinctively pulled his tattered bodice up again to make sure it was covering him. He had the urge to turn tail and run.</p><p>But Jaskier had nowhere to turn and run to. And he wouldn’t leave Essi. He thought of her again and he steeled himself.</p><p>Jaskier decided to approach one of the guards. He reckoned that he would probably know at least one of them. He would approach discreetly, talk as fast as he could to distract from his appearance, and ask to be let through to ride the gondola up.  He knew it was a long shot but there was no other way.  Jaskier couldn’t take a horse up witcher trail during the best of times, and definitely not at night. He simply had to convince them that it was alright to allow a mess of an obscenely dressed stableboy into the magic carriage with the honored guests.</p><p>Jaskier ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to make it neater. He spotted a slender young man he knew standing at the front of the line checking invitations. He had curly black hair and a bored look on his face. His name was Andre and he was a few years younger than Jaskier. He was still in school, but he helped out around Kaer Morhen when they had the need for extra hands. Jaskier knew him to be friendly enough, so he hunched in his shoulders and slipped through the crowd, murmuring <em><em>excuse me</em></em>.</p><p>Thankfully, they were all too entranced by the carriage to notice him. Jaskier was right in front of Andre, just to the left of the opening in the ropes and the line of guests, before the boy looked up from the invitation he was examining and noticed him.</p><p>Andre’s eyes widened.</p><p>“Andre,” whispered Jaskier. He leaned close. “It’s me, Jaskier.”</p><p>“I--I can see that.” His eyes clouded in confusion. “Are you alright? W-what happened to you?”</p><p>“I’m fine.” Jaskier absently rubbed his bare shoulders. When Andre’s gaze slid down to the tattered skirt, Jaskier’s nerve flickered out for a moment and he released eye contact with the boy.  “I just need to get on Draakul. I need to get up the mountain. It's a matter of grave importance.” One of the horses whinnied and the several kids in the crowd shrieked and giggled.</p><p>“What grave importance?</p><p>“Excuse me,” said a severe man to Andre’s left. He was a stout man in a formal suit, and a waxed mustache.  A young lady, presumably his charge, gently held his elbow. “Excuse me boy, We don’t want to miss the carriage this time. This isn’t the time for gossiping with your,” the man curled up his lip and assessed Jaskier, “friends.”</p><p>Jaskier growled softly in the back of his throat. He was losing patience for posh men who looked down on him. The man didn’t hear him. Jaskier leaned close to Andre, who fiddled nervously with the man’s invitation.</p><p>“I said, I need to get on Draakul. I need to get up the mountain.” This time Jaskier felt more determined and it was apparent in his voice.</p><p>“I—-” stammered Andre. “Not like this. You can’t go on Draakul like that. The ladies...you’ll frighten them. Are you sure you’re alright?” </p><p>“I’m fine,” said Jaskier through his teeth.</p><p>“We’re waiting,” said the severe man a little too loudly.</p><p>“Uncle, it’s fine,” said the young woman on his arm. Her coral lipstick was immaculate and Jaskier couldn’t help but admire it and remember how beautiful he’d looked only an hour before, before he was such a mess.</p><p>“It most certainly is not fine!” protested the man.</p><p>“Just let me slip through,” pleaded Jaskier, not breaking eye contact with Andre. He had to be relentless.</p><p>Andre looked nervously at the severe man and smiled a tight smile. Then he looked back at Jaskier.</p><p>“Eskel told us you might come back tonight.” </p><p>“He did?” Jaskier’s heart leapt.</p><p>“To work,’ continued Andre. </p><p>“Oh.” Jaskier’s voice sounded hollow.  A child bolted past him and jostled him.</p><p>Andre reached out and grabbed the child by the collar and placed him back outside the rope boundary. “Out there, kiddo,” he said. He returned his gaze to Jaskier, but sounding markedly more distracted. “Not like this. I can’t let you on like this.”</p><p>“Let him on?” bellowed the man, interjecting himself into the conversation. “You cannot be serious. He looks like a vagabond harlot who’s just been in a wrestling match. If we make our arrival with him, it would ruin my niece’s chance to make a good first impression.”</p><p>“Sir, I--” began Andre.</p><p>“Just examine the stamp on my invitation and let me through,” said the man, and he leaned over the slender boy, lowering his bushy eyebrows menacingly.</p><p>“And just what in the fuck is going on here?” boomed out a deep, irritated voice behind Andre.</p><p>Jaskier’s heart skipped a beat. This could be very good news, or very bad news. He held his breath.</p><p>Lambert appeared, nudging Andre to the side. His red curls were tied back and he wore the formal armour for the school of the wolf. He cut a dashing figure in black, with his metal medallion sitting on his muscular chest and both swords strapped onto his sinewy shoulders.</p><p>
Andre’s face and shoulders sagged in relief. Jaskier tensed. He had been counting on pressuring the young Andre. Lambert was practically immune to charming and cajoling. But he did know him far better. Maybe the witcher would show mercy.</p><p>“Witcher, thank the gods,” said the man. He smiled a false ingratiating smile and pointed at Andre. “Your boy is taking too long to confirm our invitation. We’ll miss our ride while he gossips with his ruffian friend.”</p><p>“His name’s Andre,” said Lambert flatly. “And don’t fuckin point at him.” He said this while jabbing a finger at the man. “The carriage leaves when I say it leaves.” He pointed at himself. “So don’t worry about missing it. You’ll only miss it if I want you to miss it.”</p><p>The man huffed and pulled at his beard. Lambert snatched the invitation from Andre. He held it up to a torch and seemed satisfied. “Pass through,” he said briskly.</p><p>
Lambert put the invitation in a bucket and turned to look at Jaskier.</p><p>Jaskier smiled hopefully and gathered his courage. “Hi Lam--”</p><p>
“What the fuck happened to you?” frowned Lambert.</p><p>“Yes.” Jaskier took a deep breath. “So that is a long story.  Lambert I need—”</p><p>“You look like somebody kicked your ass then dragged you backwards through Crookbag Bog,” said Lambert. </p><p>“Well, yes, but the thing is, I’m in a hurry and I need to get on Draakul. Please-”</p><p>Lambert crossed his arms and widened his stance. “But who kicked your ass?”</p><p>“Nobody. Please. Let me on Draakul. You have space don’t you?” Jaskier clasped his hands at his chest like a prayer. It was a bit overwrought but Jaskier was ready to throw himself at the witcher’s mercy.</p><p>“Nobody? You just said yes.” Lambert’s canny eyes examined Jaskier top to bottom.</p><p>Jaskier gritted his teeth. “You have space, right? On Draakul?”</p><p>“I do,” answered Lambert slowly. “Eskel told me you might come back to work tonight. I’ve been keeping a spot open for you.”</p><p>Eskel had said that he should come back to work if he changed his mind. He had gone so far as to have the rest of them keep look-out for him.</p><p>“Ok so let me on. Please.” </p><p>The glowing carriage hovered behind Lambert. It was so close now. But the crease in Lambert’s forehead suggested it was leagues away.</p><p>The next two guests had shuffled forward and a lady in a black tailored robe, accompanying another stunning young lady, cleared her throat.</p><p>“Fucking wait,” said Lambert, without even gracing her with a glance. His eyes softened almost imperceptibly.  Anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t have noticed it. But Jaskier had worked for him for several years now, so the subtle intricacies of Lambert’s moods were familiar. Hope bloomed in his chest. But it was promptly stifled.</p><p>“Jaskier,” said Lambert gruffly. “You shouldn’t work in this condition. We have plenty of staff. Just go home. Rest. Clean up.  Eskel will understand. You have the rest of the week to work your ass off.”</p><p>Andre’s gaze flicked from Lambert to Jaskier and back again.  Jaskier stepped closer to Lambert.</p><p>“Can I just. Can I talk to you privately?” A lump rose in his throat at the prospect of tearing the bandage off of this festered wound of this evening. He would share what he had to, but he whispered a silent prayer that he wouldn’t have to. If he had to say any of it out loud, he didn’t trust his ability to hold himself together. </p><p>Lambert looked at Andre and jerked his head, signaling the boy to leave them. He did.</p><p>Jaskier crowded even closer.  He held his bodice together as he leaned in and whispered close to Lambert’s ear, eyes trained carefully on the ground.</p><p>“Lambert. Please don’t make me explain--”</p><p>“You can go home,” said Lambert. He was so close now, Jaskier could smell the sandalwood soap on the witcher. Usually he just smelled like sweat and leather. “Just relax. Have a beer. Whack off. Whatever.”</p><p>“I can’t!” hissed Jaskier.</p><p>“You can’t whack off?”</p><p>“NO!” said Jaskier. “I mean yes. I mean, I can’t go home.”</p><p>“Why. Not?” Bald concern crept into Lambert’s voice.</p><p>“I don’t. I don’t <em><em>have</em></em> one anymore.” The last words drifted away as his throat closed on him. He breathed through his nose slowly.</p><p>Lambert’s eyebrows shot up but he remained silent.</p><p>“--and I...I need—” Jaskier lowered his voice, but it trembled despite his efforts “--I need <em><em>help</em></em>.” He said a silent thanks to Melitele that the words had come out solidly for the most part.</p><p>Lambert was inscrutable for a moment. Jaskier felt that he didn’t breathe as he waited for a reaction, any reaction from the witcher.  The crowd around him was rambunctious and celebratory. The guest waiting in line whispered impatiently. But the space between him and Lambert was silent as a crypt as he waited.</p><p>Then Lambert nodded. That slight movement released the tension racking Jaskier’s body.</p><p>“Andre!” Lambert barked, motioning the boy back to join them.</p><p>Andre reappeared.</p><p>“Gimme your coat,” said Lambert. Andre was wearing a long black coat. Jaskier eyed it, knowing that it would cover a beat up stableboy failing at modesty. No matter how he clutched at it, the tattered remains of his gown would not cover his crotch or his chest. He wasn’t a shy man, but he reserved nudity for when he chose it. Not when it was forced upon him by his stepfather.</p><p>“What?” asked Andre.</p><p>“Your coat. Give it,” said Lambert. “Don’t worry, I’ll move you near the heaters.”</p><p>“My—” said Andre, obviously confused. He looked at Jaskier who shrugged and smiled sheepishly.</p><p>“Now,” said Lambert.</p><p>“I’ll give it back,” said Jaskier. “I’ll find you tomorrow, I promise.”</p><p>Andre nodded and shuffled off his coat. Lambert grabbed it and swung it over Jaskiers shoulders. It settled over his shoulders warming them. He was broader and taller than Andre, but it still fit well enough. It warmed him in more way than one.</p><p>Jaskier pulled it closed. He nodded at Andre. “Thanks.”</p><p>Andre nodded but still looked bewildered.</p><p>Lambert looked at the chaperone in the black robe who stood obediently silent. He motioned for her to step aside.  She pursed her lips and moved away from the opening in the rope boundary.</p><p>“Come on,” said Lambert, motioning him through.</p><p>Jaskier’s heartbeat quickened and he stepped around the barrier.  Lambert held out his elbow and Jaskier took it. The witcher tromped forward, looking around as irritated as ever. But he led Jaskier to Draakul with a gentle hand on his.</p><p>The inside of the gondola was as luxe as the outside. The walls shone silver and worn wooden benches were quilted in purple velvet.</p><p>When Jaskier stepped into the gondola there were several women inside already. Their skirts billowed, filling the chamber. A few chaperones were wedged between them, with the skirts flowing over their laps.</p><p>They collectively recoiled when Jaskeir climbed aboard. He heard a gasp from one corner of the carriage. It issued from a woman in ringlets clutching a fashionable bag. </p><p>Jaskier gulped and found a seat in a corner, pressing his body against the wall. The car may have looked like a magical carriage, but the wall was still the cold metal of Draakul. Oddly, it soothed his jangled nerves.</p><p>Lambert poked his head in the door after him and looked around the car authoritatively.</p><p>The severe man from earlier spoke up. “Surely you can’t expect us to make our arrivals with a filthy beat up—”</p><p>“Do you want to go to this fuckin party?” asked Lambert harshly, cutting him off.</p><p>“Well,” said the man. “Yes.”</p><p>“Then shut <em><em>the fuck</em></em> up,” said Lambert, signalling the end of the conversation.</p><p>Lambert pointed at the angry man and then to each person on the other benches in turn. The man’s jaw snapped shut, though his eyes were aflame. This was not the kind of language used in the company of noble ladies. They all fell utterly silent. Satisfaction curled in Jaskier’s gut. </p><p>“He’s one of <em><em>ours</em></em>,” continued Lambert. “So if any of you fuckers say a word to him after I’ve gone, I’ll toss your asses back down the mountain myself.”</p><p>Something in Jaskier broke open, and he blinked back tears furiously.</p><p>Lambert waited, grimacing and staring at the guests until he got a nod from each of them. Then he was gone. Jaskier heard him slap the side of the gondola and holler ‘<em><em>ready, go’</em></em>.</p><p>As they were pulling away, he peeked out the window and caught Lambert’s eye. He mouthed “thank you.” Lambert frowned and nodded.</p><p>Jaskier’s stomach lurched as Draakul started up. It moved ten times as fast as normal.  As they pulled up higher, he spotted a sorceress below with her arms raised, urging the carriage on with her magic. He tugged the coat over his shoulders.</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>He’s one of ours.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>The ride up was awkward for the guests. They watched him silently. He didn’t care. He leaned his head out the window and watched the white horses streak across the sky.</p><p>Once they arrived, the others in the car sat in nervous silence and stared at him as though afraid to offend him or step past him. He gave them each a magnanimous, patronizing smile and climbed off, delicately holding the edges of his coat, pinkies raised.  </p><p>As his carriage companions disembarked behind him and began walking towards the main entrance of Kaer Morhen, Jaskier headed straight for the stables. He always kept a spare set of clothes there. He needed to look like staff, because that is what he was, and because that would grant him entry everywhere.</p><p>He would get dressed, then he would find a sorceress. Triss was his first choice. He admired Lady Yennefer but he found her just a touch terrifying. Geralt worshipped her so she had to be a good person. But the thought of being under her sharp assessing gaze right now was not a welcome one.</p><p>Jaskier burst into the stables and made a beeline straight for a cabinet on the opposite side of the entrance. There were a few soft whinnies.</p><p>“Hello there,” he called out to the horses. “I hope you’re all being good.”</p><p>He opened the cabinet and shrugged off Andre’s coat. He laid it over a stall and reached for the clothing. The moment his fingers touched his trousers he heard the stable door slam back open. He almost leapt out of his skin.</p><p>“Motherfucker!” He shouted. He whipped around and promptly slapped a hand over his mouth.</p><p>Framed in the doorway was the absolutely stunning Lady Yennefer. She was clad in a black and white gown, tailored within an inch of its life to her elegant curves.  Her neckline plunged perilously low and a star pendant dangled onto her chest from a black choker.</p><p>She smelled as she always did, of a floral berry scent. Her eyeshadow glimmered green.</p><p>Jaskier stood before her in tattered rags. Lady Yennefer raised an eyebrow.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I mostly wrote this chapter to slowly unfold that perhaps Jaskier is more important to the Kaer Morhen boys than he realizes. I wanted to give Lambert a chance to help him, because I love Lambert.</p><p>Jaskier also got his enchanted carriage. And has met his fairy godmother? Let me know what you think. I'll meet you in the comments as usual. </p><p>Next Update is on Friday!</p><p>Thanks for reading, loves.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Geralt asked me for a favor,” she said. “And he told me you’d be here. Apparently the stables are your second home.”</p><p>“What has this favor got to do with me?” he asked. “No offense, Lady Yennefer.”</p><p>“None taken,” she said. “I prefer when people are direct. It saves us both time.” She looked around the stables, nose wrinkling gently. “I met Geralt at the masquerade and he asked me to come find you and help you get into the masquerade as a guest. And here I am. All caught up now?” </p><p>“He—-what?” asked Jaskier, pulling up his bodice again, as though it would help. </p><p>“Oh, not to worry. He didn’t know about all this,” said Yennefer, motioning to the state of Jaskier and grimacing. “You seem to want to keep this under wraps. So. Your secret is safe with me. I’m just here to make your dreams come true.” She said it with a sardonic air and she waved her hand in the air as though she had a wand of some kind, like witches in the old stories. </p><p>“Wha—why would he ask you to do that?” asked Jaskier. “Why would he want to get me into the masquerade?”</p><p>“To dance with Eskel of course.” She said it as though it were patently obvious.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome back my loves! No content warnings.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Prior to this very moment, Jaskier had never been alone with Lady Yennefer. He’d never even had a real conversation with her.</p><p>Stableboys didn’t have real conversations with people who wielded her kind of power. She was the most formidable sorceress on the continent and could turn him into a newt, if such banal magic weren’t beneath her. Beyond that, she always looked incredibly unimpressed by everything going on around her.</p><p>Jaskier normally crept away when she was around. And he certainly would have avoided this if he could have...being in her sights while injured and half naked. However, he was in dire need of a sorceress. This chance encounter could be his salvation. He resolved to open the conversation by improving upon the impression he had just made.</p><p>“Sorry, yeah, sorry,” Said Jaskier. “For the cursing. Just startled me is all.” He shifted on his feet. He opened his mouth to plead his case, but Yennefer approached him, eyes locked on the remains of his dress. She pinched her skirt in her fingers, and stepped gingerly across the straw strewn ground. He realized how odd it was to see her in this setting. He’d never seen her in the stables. Geralt always brought her horse for her.</p><p>“What brings you to the stables?” he cleared his throat and thought to address her properly, “Lady Yennefer? Need something? A horse? That’s my specialty.” He skittered under her powerful gaze and began to babble. “I know all the horses, um, I know the goats. Do you need a goat? Probably not. No one needs a goat. Maybe Eskel—.”</p><p>“Hello, Jaskier,” Yennefer said, mercifully silencing him. “No need to apologize for profanity. I choose to spend most of my time with witchers. You are incapable of shocking me. And I do not need a horse.”</p><p>She touched his shoulder with her soft hand and turned him around. He dutifully shuffled in a circle as she regarded him. He was silent and cooperative. It seemed like the best move for the moment. It was almost comical how someone almost a head shorter than him could make him feel so vulnerable.</p><p>“What happened to you, stableboy?” she asked, sounding imperious.</p><p>Jaskier cleared his throat and met her eyes so that she wouldn’t think him a coward. “I’d rather not talk about it.”</p><p>She nodded at him. “Well, I suppose you don’t have to. But this does make my work a bit more complicated.” She tapped her teeth with a finger.</p><p>“Your work? What do you mean?” he asked.</p><p>“Geralt asked me for a favor,” she said. “And he told me you’d be here. Apparently the stables are your second home.”</p><p>“What has this favor got to do with me?” he asked. “No offense, Lady Yennefer.”</p><p>“None taken,” she said. “I prefer when people are direct. It saves us both time.” She looked around the stables, nose wrinkling gently. “I met Geralt at the masquerade and he asked me to come find you and help you get into the masquerade as a guest. And here I am. All caught up now?”</p><p>“He—-what?” asked Jaskier, pulling up his bodice again, as though it would help.</p><p>“Oh, not to worry. He didn’t know about all this,” said Yennefer, motioning to the state of Jaskier and grimacing. “You seem to want to keep this under wraps. So. Your secret is safe with me. I’m just here to make your dreams come true.” She said it with a sardonic air and she waved her hand in the air as though she had a wand of some kind, like witches in the old stories.</p><p>“Wha—why would he ask you to do that?” asked Jaskier. “Why would he want to get me into the masquerade?”</p><p>“To dance with Eskel of course.” She said it as though it were patently obvious.</p><p>Jaskier stared in shock. That morning, it had been the only thing he wanted. Now he pulled back from the idea, as though it would break if he touched it.</p><p>“Why?” It seemed to be the only question he could formulate in her presence.</p><p>Yennefer shrugged her slender shoulders. “He said that you’re a good man. And that you deserve a dance. As for <em>how</em>,” she wiggled her fingers, “with magic. Obviously. Unless you can sew a gown before the masquerade is over.”</p><p>Jaskier’s jaw fell open.</p><p>“Well you don’t need to stare at me like a fish,” said Yennefer. “Geralt takes his time catching all of the signals, but he does get there. He knows how you feel about his brother.”</p><p>If Jaskier hadn’t already been basically naked, hearing his feelings for Eskel being stated so casually would have made him feel so. But what else had Yennefer said?</p><p>“He said I’m a good man?” asked Jaskier incredulously. He never believed Geralt thought poorly of him. He just hadn’t known that Geralt thought of him at all. Suddenly the thought made him crawl with guilt. Lambert had been protective tonight. He’d claimed Jaskier as <em>one of them.</em> Now Geralt was being generous and thoughtful. All for him. A man who had lied to them for years. Who hid the fact that his mother was their worst enemy. No. No. He had to stop this train of thought. Now was not the time to spiral into a pity party. Now was time to help Essi.</p><p>“I don’t want to go to the party,” said Jaskier. “But I do need help. Please, Lady Yennefer. I need the help of a sorceress.”</p><p>“Yes,” said Yen. She paced around him in a circle. It was dim in the stables and it softened her sharp features. Her skirts rustled as she walked. She assessed him carefully from his exposed legs and thighs to his ruffled hair and streaked face. “Judging from the state you’re in, the help you need is a bit more urgent.”</p><p>“It is, please. I need your help taking off a charm my stepfather cast.” Jaskier absently wiped at the skin under his eyes, hoping to clean off any stray kohl. It was forward, he knew, to ask for her help so blatantly. Sorceresses didn’t exist to serve random servants. But the thought of Essi propelled his courage.</p><p>Yennefer stopped again in front of him. She crossed her arms. “Well, stableboy, if you want my help, I must know what I’m getting into. Tell me the whole story. ”</p><p>Jaskier cleared his throat and rubbed his black streaked fingers against each other, as though spreading the black all over his fingers would help. “Alright. So,” he began. He felt shaky still but he resolved to do this for Essi. “I went home early today. And I found my sister dressed for the masquerade.”</p><p>“Your sister is here tonight?” asked Yennefer. She blinked in surprise.</p><p>“Yes, Lady,” said Jaskier.</p><p>“Stableboys don’t usually come from families who can get into masquerades,” said Yennefer.</p><p>“I know. I know. But I do. That’s all you need to know.” Jaskier wasn’t able to stop the note of defensiveness.</p><p>Yennefer arched an immaculate eyebrow. She could give a speech with only the movement of her brows.</p><p>“Anyway, she was crying when I got home,” said Jaskier. “She was sobbing, really. She didn’t want to come. She’s only thirteen years old, and the idea of coming here upset her.”</p><p>“Hmm,” said Yennefer. “Why didn’t the child’s mother intervene?”</p><p>“Her mother and father separated years ago. She lives in Skellige.”</p><p>“I see,” said Yen. “So you share neither a mother nor a father with this girl?”</p><p>“She is my sister.” Said Jaskier. The heat in his response surprised even him. But he kept going. “Family doesn’t end with blood.”</p><p>Yen blinked and gestured to him to keep going. “Fine, fine, I didn’t mean to offend you. But what about your mother?”</p><p>“She died many years ago.” Jaskier always added the ‘many years ago’ so that people wouldn’t feel the need to comfort him. That was always so awkward.</p><p>“I see,” said Yen.</p><p>Jaskier swallowed, relieved she hadn't dwelled on the matter of his mother. He pushed ahead to make sure it stayed that way.</p><p>“So then my sister asked if I would go in her place. She knows I’ve always wanted to go. She knows—“</p><p>“That you are enamored with Eskel,” finished Yennefer.</p><p>Jaskier felt his cheeks burn hotter. “Gods do you have to <em>say</em> it like that? Bloody hell.” Only when the words were out of his mouth did he realize that he had once again mouthed off to the deadliest sorceress on the continent, once again using rude language. But true to her words she wasn’t fazed.</p><p>“Yes,” she said. “I do.” A smirk hovered on her lips.</p><p>Jaskier wasn’t sure if she was mocking him. He decided to ignore it and continue. “So. I agreed, and I got dressed in a gown.”</p><p>“Wait,” said Yennefer, interrupting him. She had a sharp mind that ran in front of people. No one spoke fast enough to arrive at the finish line before her thoughts. “Is that what this tattered thing is? The gown you were going to wear?”</p><p>“Yes,” Jaskier sighed, hurt by the memory. He threw out his arms wide. “It was glorious when I put it on. It was my mother’s wedding dress.”</p><p>Yennefer looked slightly alarmed as she assessed the rags clinging to his body again. “This was your mother’s wedding gown? An heirloom?”</p><p>“Yes,” Jaskier swallowed down a lump and continued briskly. “But my stepfather came home. And when he saw me, he was furious.”</p><p>“Did. Did he do this?” asked Yennefer. Her voice glimmered with danger. She reached and touched a hanging fragment, running it through her fingers. Then she dropped it and rubbed her fingertips together, looking at the ash.</p><p>Jaskier detected a steeliness in her tone. He trusted his instincts and gave himself permission to be honest. “Destroy the last thing I have of my mother and throw me out on my ass? Yes. He’s never liked me. And after my mother died he seemed to hate me. At first I thought it was grief. Now I don’t know. But that’s not the point.”</p><p>“I know, I know, the point is your sister,” said Yennefer. “But I need to know it all. He threw you out?”</p><p>Jaskier looked up at the stable ceiling. He took a moment to count the rafters until his gut settled. Then he looked again into Yennefer’s violet eyes. “Yes.”</p><p>“But you’re his son,” insisted Yennefer. “If he ever loved his wife, you would be dear to him. <em>You</em> are his son.”</p><p>“Not according to him,” said Jaskier evenly. The day that Stregobor had arrived on their doorstep with little Essi in tow, Jaskier had hoped the man would become his father. But since then, that hope had been ground to ash. Chosen family only works if you are chosen. “According to him, I’m not his real child, and I never will be.”</p><p>Yennefer’s eyes flared so hot that for a moment, Jaskier could have sworn they were golden like a witcher’s eyes. But she said nothing.</p><p>“But that’s not the important bit,” said Jaskier. “He put a spell on my sister. To make her more likely to be chosen.”</p><p>“Pliant,” said Yennefer.</p><p>“Pliant?” asked Jaskier. He vaguely remembered Stregobor using that adjective.</p><p>“Yes, the name of the spell,” said Yennefer. “It’s called Pliant. It makes her more alluring with pheromones and it renders her incapable of saying no.”</p><p>“Yes!” said Jaskier. “How did you know?”</p><p>“Families do that all the time,” said Yennefer.</p><p>“Seriously?” That was news to him. He recoiled in disgust, his mouth shaping into a grimace.</p><p>Yen held up her hands with the air of someone who has seen it all. “That’s the way it has always been. Men would never leave something so important as <em>power</em> to the will of a girl.”</p><p>“She’s a human being! Not a breeding machine,” cried Jaskier. He ground his teeth. The power of his statement was somewhat punctured by the bleat of a goat that rang through the stables at that moment. The goat pens were right next to the stables and sometimes they let their presence be known.</p><p>Yennefer nodded. “Yes you’ll find that I agree with you. And so does Vesemir. These families pull those tricks so often, that part of the masquerade security process is scanning the girls and taking off any charms like that.”</p><p>“Really?” asked Jaskier. He felt like a curtain was being pulled back on some horror he was the last to know about.</p><p>“Yes, Triss is at the door checking in guests,” said Yennefer. “She does a security scan of people’s thoughts. If she senses Pliant on a girl, she’ll take it off. And your stepfather won’t even notice. We’re good at it. For as long as men have been taking away girls' choices, enchantresses have been finding ways to give them back.”</p><p>Jaskier felt a relief so great he almost cried. “Are you sure? Are you sure it’ll be gone by now?”</p><p>“No, of course not. I can’t be one hundred percent sure. It is conceivably possible to get something by Triss, depending on how good the mage is.”</p><p>Jaskier impulsively shot out a hand and took one of Yennefer’s. It was cool and soft and the tips of her nails were sheened with blood red. Her hand twitched slightly but she didn’t pull back.</p><p>“She’s still thirteen and scared,” he said urgently. “She shouldn’t even be here. What if Triss missed it? I’m going to change, and go in and check on her. If she’s still under the spell, can you help me by taking it off?”</p><p>“Of course,” said Yennfer. “I can. Or Triss. Sabrina. Just speak to any enchantress discreetly and she’ll know what to do.”</p><p>Jaskier beamed and most of the tension he was carrying slipped away. Not all, but enough.</p><p>“Thank you, Lady Yennefer.” He squeezed her hand.</p><p>She looked around the stables as though conducting an important inspection. She let their clasped hands swing between them. “And you came all the way back here in the freezing cold, injured, and practically naked for her? So she could make her own choices?”</p><p>“Yes,” said Jaskier. “Of course.”</p><p>Yennefer looked at him as though she was seeing him for the first time. “Geralt was right,” she said. “You deserve this. I can get you in.”</p><p>“I already can get in,” said Jaskier. “I’m just going to change into my work clothes. Can you turn around?”</p><p>Yennefer rolled her eyes and turned her back, facing the door of the stables. Jaskier dropped the dress to the ground and stepped out of it. Even though it was tattered and grimy, he folded it carefully and placed it in a clean area of the cabinet behind him. Yennefer kept talking to him even though she looked away.</p><p>“Right, but don’t you want to go, in style? In a gorgeous gown? So that after you help your sister, you can dance with Eskel? I can give you an illusion that will make you look stunning.” She said the last bit like a musical note and she twiddled her fingers.</p><p>Jaskier pulled on his work shirt. A twinge of hope twisted at him before he could stop it, but he shoved it down. “Lady Yennefer--”</p><p>“Yen,” she corrected him. If he hadn’t known better, he would have detected softness in her voice. He couldn’t see her face though. Perhaps he had imagined it.</p><p>He pulled on his trousers and laced them. The prospect of calling her something as informal as <em>Yen</em> made him nervous. But he couldn’t turn down her gesture. “Yen,” he said. “I need to focus on my sister. She has to be my priority.”</p><p>“She can be!” said Yen whirling back around. "Why can’t you have two priorities?”</p><p>Jaskier pulled out a pair of shoes from the cabinet and dropped them onto the ground, wedging his feet into them one by one. He wasn’t willing to tell Yennefer that he felt too much fear and shame now to dance with Eskel, even under an illusion. His stepfather's words were sinking in. Like a slow acting poison, they were having their effect.</p><p>Prior to Stregobor throwing the mocking words in his face, Jaskier simply hadn’t considered the implications of having used a different name at Kaer Morhen. He’d been a teenager when he reported to work there. At the time, obscuring his true name had seemed innocuous...just a nickname. And he hadn’t <em>lied</em> about his mother, exactly. He just hadn’t mentioned her beyond the fact that she had died.</p><p>But when Stregobor had connected all of those dots, it was clear. To an outsider it would seem obvious that Jaskier was lying. And who told such lies but people with ulterior motives? And who walked around, the embodiment of their greatest betrayal, the one that had been so grave it had reshaped their world, without sharing that fact?</p><p>The thought of Eskel’s kind face with a look of betrayal on it, wounded him deeply. The fear of his subsequent rejection and perhaps his own imprisonment, frightened him. Tonight he would stay in the stables. It was too late and too cold to go anywhere else. But tomorrow he would have to come up with a plan. He needed to leave Kaer Morhen before he was found out. It would be excruciatingly painful to leave, but it would be better than the heartbreak of staying long enough to be found out. He wouldn’t be able to bear seeing betrayal or hatred on their faces, knowing he was the one who put it there.</p><p>He would leave before he could be thrown out or locked up. And he definitely wasn’t going to dance with Eskel.</p><p>He wasn’t worthy.</p><p>Jaskier looked at her resolutely. “It’ll be simpler if I just go in as a servant. I can move quickly and I won’t have to worry about a ticket. Why make this more complicated?”</p><p>“Sure,” said Yennefer. “But it’s pretty obvious,” she flicked her eyes up and down him, “that your stepfather doesn’t want you here. What if he sees you? Won’t he be angry? What if he takes it out on her? Or punishes you again? If you’re in a disguise, you may have to wait longer at the door, but you can do what you need to do unnoticed once you get inside.”</p><p>Jaskier thought carefully. She had a point. What if Stregobor were standing right inside the door and spotted him the minute he walked in? “You’re right,” he said.</p><p>“I always am,” she said with a smile.</p><p>“I can see that,” he said, attempting a light, humored delivery.</p><p>“And then,” she said, drawing out the word and inclining her head towards the door, “if everything turns out alright you can dance with Eskel.”</p><p>Jaskier dragged his fingers through his hair. He would just go along with it. “Just give me the illusion.” He smiled wide and hoped that his false bravado landed.</p><p>She had. “Very well, you ungrateful stableboy.” She raised her hands to begin a spell.</p><p>“Wait!” Jaskier said, fear suddenly gripping him.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Will it hurt?” he asked. He had a decent enough pain tolerance but he needed to know what was coming.</p><p>“No.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s like a fairy’s kiss. Your royal highness won’t feel a thing.”</p><p>“And what will I look like?” He asked, ignoring her teasing completely.</p><p>“Like a beautiful lady in a stunning gown,” she answered. “You will not look, sound, or smell like yourself. The specifics of what that means which will vary person to person. Each person will see what they expect to see. One person may see a blonde. Another, a redhead. One may smell raspberries, and another roses. That will be so no one can describe you to another after the fact. A true disguise.”</p><p>“So my stepfather won’t recognize me, even though he’s a mage?” Asked Jaskier slowly.</p><p>Yen chewed her lip and thought for a moment. “Mages can see through illusions, but only if they know to look for them. Only if they know in the first place that an illusion exists. So don’t give him any reason to think that you are you. Don’t say your real name. Don’t say anything that would link you to your true identity. Be careful. Can you do that?”</p><p>Jaskier nodded. “Yes. I can.” It didn’t sound that difficult. He would just have to be alert.</p><p>“But!” she held up her finger. “This will only work until midnight. That is when the choosing ceremony begins and I must put all of my energy to the presentation of the witchers. The guests are all going to be dazzled.” She waved her hands and sounded bored at the last part. “And I will no longer have the spare energy to maintain this illusion.”</p><p>“So you can give me the illusion, but only until midnight,” said Jaskier slowly. That wasn’t much of a catch either. The sooner he could leave the better. When he tried to think of what the witchers would do to him if they found out his true identity, everything inside went dark and watery.</p><p>“Yes.” Yennefer nodded her ascent. “In case this affects your decision,” she said slyly, “Eskel is wearing the formal black today. It complements his eyes beautifully.”</p><p>Jaskier practically melted, despite his best efforts. Yen cackled. “That’s a yes, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Yes,” he said. “Yes. But I’m only going on to help my sister.”</p><p>Yen shrugged. “Of course! Are you ready?”</p><p>“I’m ready,” he breathed, squeezing his eyes closed.</p><p>Yen snorted a laugh and lifted her hands. “You don’t want to miss this, stableboy. It’s glittery,” she said playfully.</p><p>Jaskier felt a pleasant buzz steal over him, thrumming from his head out to his fingertips and toes. He opened his eyes and right in front of him bright points of glitter darted past like minnows. He turned slowly and his gaze swept over the sparkling aura hazed all the way around him. He must have looked truly stunned because Yen chuckled at him as she made smaller, then larger circles, with her fingers.</p><p>Then there was a woosh in his ears. He startled and squeezed his eyes shut again. The air settled again and it was silent once more in the stable. He could hear a horse loudly lapping up water.</p><p>“See that wasn’t so bad,” laughed Yen. “Open your eyes.”</p><p>Jaskier looked down. His mother’s gown, changed by he and Essi’s creative tailoring, was exactly as it was when he put it on. It was flawless--clean as newly fallen snow and richly textured with luxurious embroidery on the bodice. Satin gloves were in place all the way over his elbows. His stockings were repaired and snug on his thighs. His satin shawl, the remains of his mother’s train, was fastened again around his neck. He almost sobbed. The relief of seeing his mother's gown again struck him even harder than he expected. Yennefer had given it back to him, even if just for the night.  He held up his hands and examined his arms. His skin glowed from the bath and exfoliation earlier. He reached up to touch his face.</p><p>“Nuh uh,” said Yennefer. She reached out and gently lowered his hand. “You’ll ruin your makeup.” She made a tsk-ing sound.</p><p>“But they’ll recognize my mother’s gown,” he said. “Essi will. She sewed it. And maybe my stepfather too.”</p><p>“Is that what you see?” Asked Yen.</p><p>“Well yes,” he answered.</p><p>“That is because you wish to see her gown again,” said Yen softly. “They will not.”</p><p>Jaskier gazed at her in wonderment and whispered a thank you. Yennefer of Vengerberg had given some part of his dream back to him. It stitched a tear in his heart back together. It was just an illusion. But it was still important. He reached to touch his head and felt a large extravagant feathered mask on top of his head.</p><p>Then Yennefer’s eyes fell on his neck. He reached to touch himself as an unconscious reaction to her gaze. His fingertips fell on the cold symmetry of his mother’s sapphire necklace. Yennefer saw it too and she sucked in a breath. Her eyes blew wide for just a moment. It was like she had remembered something terrifying.</p><p>“Is everything alright?” asked Jaskier. He realized the look was already gone from her face. Perhaps he had imagined it, he thought.</p><p>“Yes, yes of course, why?” asked Yennefer. She smiled at him. It was a warm smile. She had never given him one of those before.</p><p>“No reason,” said Jaskier. He felt a touch ridiculous now. She looked so placid he doubted he had ever seen her otherwise.</p><p>“That’s your mother’s necklace?” she asked casually.</p><p>“Yes,” he said. He contentedly slid his hands across the skirt. The healed rips in it were healing to his own heart as well. He had one more night with his mother’s gown. Even if it was an illusion.</p><p>“It’s lovely,” said Yennefer. “Now, one more thing.” She reached into her pockets and held out an invitation. “I brought an invitation for you. Again. Courtesy of Geralt.”</p><p>Jaskier reached out for the coveted invitation. It was creamy and engraved with the symbols of all of the witcher schools.</p><p>“Just get out by midnight,” said Yennefer. “Once I begin the illusions for the choosing ceremony, your illusion will disappear and you’ll look like Jaskier the stableboy, which right now I’d liken to a bedraggled little alley cat in his work clothes.”</p><p>Jaskier pressed his lips in mock offense. Then he clasped the invitation to his chest. “I will.” I’ll check on her, then I’ll get out fast.”</p><p>“I must leave you now,” said Yennefer. “Go be a hero. And then, if you can convince yourself to have a little fun, dance with your witcher.” Then there was a poof and she disappeared without a trace.</p><p>Jaskier stood, blinking in the dim stables alone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Jaskier has met his fairy godmother, and now has a disguise to move around in the masquerade. What did you think? Notice any foreshadowing? Notice the teeny little easter egg for Supernatural fans?</p><p>I'll meet you in the comments. :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. That's Just How It's Done</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jaskier makes it inside the masquerade, determined to help Essi.</p><p>---------</p><p>Jaskier had always just tromped into the castle, dirty boots and all, whenever he needed something. But now he waited, his fingers making little indents in his formal invitation. Now he made little clicks on the stone as he moved forward in line, taking in the murmured conversations and the tinkling, bubbling sounds of the moat.</p><p>He lifted his gaze high to watch the illusions decorating the outside of the Keep. The mask made that a bit more difficult. He tilted his head so far back that he almost tripped over his own feet. But it was worth it to see the spectacle. Orange and green dragons made of mist, lazily curled around the turrets and balustrades of Kaer Morhen as though guarding some treasure inside.  </p><p>Jaskier wasn't the only one wrapped in a lovely illusion. Kaer Morhen was transformed as well. Despite their long history together, and despite his abiding love for her, Jaskier and Kaer Morhen were strangers to one another tonight.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome back! No content warnings for this one.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier had always just tromped into the castle, dirty boots and all, whenever he needed something. But now he waited, his fingers making little indents in his formal invitation. Now he made little clicks on the stone as he moved forward in line, taking in the murmured conversations and the tinkling, bubbling sounds of the moat.</p><p>He lifted his gaze high to watch the illusions decorating the outside of the Keep. The mask made that a bit more difficult. He tilted his head so far back that he almost tripped over his own feet. But it was worth it to see the spectacle. Orange and green dragons made of mist, lazily curled around the turrets and balustrades of Kaer Morhen as though guarding some treasure inside.</p><p>Jaskier wasn't the only one wrapped in a lovely illusion. Kaer Morhen was transformed as well. Despite their long history together, and despite his abiding love for her, Jaskier and Kaer Morhen were strangers to one another tonight.</p><p>And though it did so unknowingly, the castle was holding his sister hostage.</p><p>Jaskier tried to picture what Essi was doing inside the keep. If Triss hadn’t found the charm, Essi would be frozen in fear next to her father. If Triss had taken off the charm, she was likely desperately trying to avoid the notice of potential suitors.</p><p>Regardless, as soon as he was inside, she would be safe. He would handle this.</p><p>He glanced down at the invitation in his hands to find something else to occupy his anxious mind while he waited. The glow from the dragons allowed him to make out what it said. On the creamy linen papers, gold and red calligraphy shimmered in majestic loops.</p><p>You Are Invited to A Kaer Morhen</p><p>Masquerade</p><p>Dance: 10:00pm</p><p>Choosing ceremony: Midnight</p><p>Fireworks: 1:00am</p><p>Coen of Poviss</p><p>Eskel of the Blue Mountains</p><p>George of Kagan</p><p>Jerome Moreau</p><p>And</p><p>Letho of Gulet</p><p>Will be taking part in the choosing ceremony</p><p>Even though he had known Eskel would be choosing tonight, it was a bit jarring to see his name in print. Eskel preferred to stay out of the spotlight, but every noble streaming into the Keep had this piece of paper in their hands. Every lady was rubbing her fingers over his name.</p><p><em>His witcher</em>.</p><p>“Next,” the word cut through the air abruptly. Jaskier had reached the gate. The guard held out his hand and waited. “Invitation.”</p><p>Jaskier held his breath for a moment to calm his galloping heart. He handed over the invitation. The guard held it to a flame. He grunted and nodded.</p><p>“Proceed,” he said. Then he looked past Jaskier. “Next.”</p><p>Jaskier crossed into the courtyard. There would normally be tools leaned against a wall here, or a runaway chicken clucking and pecking the ground. But tonight it was clear and clean as a whistle. A wine red carpet ran from the gate to the door of the castle.</p><p>The door was open, and warm lighting spilled out in an arched shape like a single angel's wing.</p><p>Triss Merigold and Sabrina Glevissig flanked the large open doorway on either side. They looked confident and courteous as they chatted briefly with each guest, slipping something onto the wrists of each girl. Triss was resplendent in a green silken gown, which played off her chestnut curls magnificently. Sabrina wore a black gown with a plunging neckline and a ruby drop that hung between her voluptuous breasts.</p><p>Jaskier walked towards them, clutching his skirts.</p><p>“Hello my dear,” said Triss, beckoning him to approach. “Welcome to Kaer Morhen. I’m going to scan you before you enter, then Miss Glevissig is going to give you your beads.”</p><p><em>My beads?</em> thought Jaskier.</p><p>“I won’t be reading your thoughts,” continued Triss, “just scanning for harmful charms or the presence of a threat. Kaer Morhen must protect itself and its guests do you understand?” She had clearly been repeating the phrases all night.</p><p>Jaskier murmured his assent. He blinked nervously and could feel the mascara on his lashes flick against the mask. It was the oddest sensation standing in front of these two stunning sorceresses, knowing they saw someone entirely different.</p><p>Triss was still for a moment as she read him. Her chest rose and fell with purposeful breathing. She opened her eyes and smiled wide with genuine pleasure and peace. “No threat there. Just a tremendous amount of love. How darling. Glad you’re here.” She nodded for him to pass towards Sabrina.</p><p>It seemed that the love he had for Kaer Morhen had lifted her spirits. He wondered how it affected her when people came through these doors with nasty intentions. He shivered. He would not want her job.</p><p>“Welcome dear,” said Sabrina, motioning him forward. She held out her hand, and he touched the tip of his gloved fingers to hers. “We are trying out a new system this year,” she continued. “Last masquerade, the families complained that their daughters didn’t get dances with the witchers they preferred. So, this year, each girl will get a bracelet with three beads. Each bead is a color that symbolizes the Witcher they most wish to dance with. We will try to make sure you all get to dance with at least one of them.”</p><p>“Yes ma’am,” whispered Jaskier.</p><p>“Now,” continued Sabrina, “the parents want their daughters to dance with Vesemir’s favorite,” said Sabrina. “They think it will increase their chances of marrying the next head of the witcher’s council. But the girls all want to dance with the most handsome one. Both of these categories point to Geralt--”</p><p>“Which he is just loving,” shot Triss over her shoulder sarcastically.</p><p>Sabrina giggled and continued. “But he is not on the menu this year. So I urge you to not attempt it. Just choose someone—“</p><p>“Eskel,” exclaimed Jaskier. He said it as softly as he could, but with urgency and adamance. He wouldn’t be dancing with anyone. But he couldn’t help himself in answering them honestly.</p><p>Sabrina stopped mid sentence and lifted an eyebrow. “You know what you want. I can respect that.”</p><p>“And, you have fine taste,” said Triss merrily as she nodded to greet the next guest.</p><p>Sabrina placed a red bead on a strung. “Alright, you get two more. Who are your second and third choices?”</p><p>“Eskel and Eskel,” said Jaskier breathlessly. He felt a little silly, given that he wouldn’t be using any of the beads. But when someone asks you to make a choice, you make it.</p><p>Triss and Sabrina laughed in delight.</p><p>“What is your name again? I want to know who the girl is who’s carrying a torch for Eskel” said Sabrina playfully. She added two more red beads.</p><p>“Oh leave her alone,” said Triss, still clearly pleased.</p><p>“As you wish,” said Sabrina with a conspiratorial smile. She fastened the bracelet with three red beads around Jaskier’s wrist. “Eskel’s handler for the evening is named Geoff. He is a small stout man in a gray waistcoat. He’ll be hovering around Eskel. Let him know when you wish to be presented for a dance. Tell him your name, and he’ll do the rest.”</p><p>Jaskier dipped slightly again, in a delicate curtsey. When he didn’t wobble, he was relieved. Sabrina waved him forward and he was free.</p><p>He thumbed the red beads on his wrist and passed through the familiar entryway.</p><p>He was in. Now he needed a plan.</p><p>He moved through the patches of people murmuring in the hallway. It wasn’t silent, but the music of the ballroom was muffled. It was a good location to steal a bit of quiet for conversation. The hall bordered the ballroom and two sets of double doors stood like sentries, and were flanked by doormen in festive but dignified hats.</p><p>As Jaskier moved towards the doors, his eyes caught on someone familiar. A gray ponytail and matching black formal armor peeked just through a group of people to his left. Vesemir.</p><p>Jaskier was seized by a set of extremely unruly emotions. One was relief. Vesemir was wise and experienced. Jaskier went to him whenever he needed advice about difficult guests, or problems with the animals. He could always count on the older witcher. Vesemir would listen intently. Then, he would either advise Jaskier on how to handle the situation, or he would tell him to sit tight, and Vesemir handled it for him. There was something to be said for having a real grown up in your corner.</p><p>Jaskier wanted to run to him. To ask for help. With Essi, with the fact that he was suddenly homeless, with everything.</p><p>But he couldn’t. The other complicated feeling mixed with it, inseparable from it, was shame. If he didn’t feel worthy of Eskel’s love, he felt even less worthy of Vesemir’s regard. He knew that Vesemir had been at Kaer Morhen the day the attacks were meant to happen. Jaskier’s mother’s betrayal would be utterly personal to Vesemir. It had almost gotten him killed.</p><p>Jaskier couldn’t help but watch him for a moment though, wishing he could go to him.</p><p>Vesemir’s head was bowed as he intently listened to a woman with a beehive hairdo and an off-the-shoulder gown. His mask was black and settled just below his strong eyebrows. The beehive woman rested her hand shamelessly on his shoulder. On his other side was a woman with a knowing smile and a birthmark over her lips, leaning a bit too close, her shoulder pressed to his.</p><p>The muffled music was just loud enough to create pretexts for this kind of physical touch.</p><p>The women looked enamored, blithely disregarding the fact that Vesemir wasn’t part of the choosing ceremony tonight. Vesemir had never once been part of the choosing ceremony, except as a master of ceremonies.</p><p>Jaskier had heard through idle gossip with townsfolk in taverns, that Vesemir was the only witcher not to regain his fertility. Perhaps it was age. Perhaps it was by choice. Perhaps it was the kinds of trials done on him in his day. But these women looked as though they wanted to test that theory. Perhaps they thought that practice made perfect. Or they could be there to escort younger women and thought they’d have their fun as well.</p><p>Jaskier turned away. He didn’t have time to waste staring like a fool at the Master of Kaer Morhen. He faced the double doors leading to the ballroom. The masquerade lay right on the other side of those doors.</p><p>In Jaskier’s daydreams, this was the moment he would have stopped to prepare himself. He would have tugged his gloves higher and grabbed his skirts. He would have drawn in a deep breath and decided what kind of dramatic entrance he would make. He would have whispered to himself... <em>watch out world. I’ve been practicing this for my whole life. Prepare to be upstaged.</em></p><p>But this was not his daydreams. And this was not about him. The doormen noticed Jaskier eyeing them and they swiftly stood aside and swept the doors open.</p><p>Jaskier hurried through them and was swallowed into the crowd of people on the outskirts of the dance floor. He didn’t take notice of the orchestra. He didn’t look up to see what wonders floated above him. He didn’t search out the platters of legendary food.</p><p>He simply rushed in and stood on his toes, craning to find Stregobor. After skirting the room and searching for several minutes, a bald head and a robe he recognized became visible in between the press of revelers.</p><p>Stregobor just happened to turn around in that moment and Jaskier got a good look at his face. It was like he’d been slapped. Anger bubbled up from the depths of him unbidden. Images flashed before him: Essi crying. Essi’s face going slack after the charm. His mother’s dress burning. Suddenly these images became so bright in his mind, that he was taken back in time several hours, feeling the gravel scrape his back, smelling the crackling magic, hearing his ears ring after the spell.</p><p>Jaskier churned with murderous rage. It was moments like these that made Jaskier question himself. It was moments like these when he stood, staring at Stregobor and reeling out of control, that made him wonder if he were a murderer. All he wanted to do was stab the smug looking prick in his neck.</p><p>Red bled into his vision. Violence was all he could feel.</p><p>Then Essi walked in between him and Stregobor. Seeing her face was like the flames of his fury being dumped with water.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You can’t kill her father. She loves him.</em>
</p><p>He had to get a handle on himself. He could never harm her father.</p><p>His eyes zeroed in on her. She looked dazed. She needed him to keep focus and not lose his temper.</p><p>
  <em>She needs you.</em>
</p><p>He chanted it like a spell. He had to walk away. If he spoke to Stregobor now, he would lose his mind. At minimum he was too angry to take care with his words. If he said something inadvisable, it would ruin his own cover. He could expose his true identity to the witchers. He needed an alternate plan.</p><p>Jaskier wanted to walk out of Kaer Morhen with his head high. He didn’t want to be thrown out in disgrace and tears with a broken heart.</p><p>For once in his life, he needed to be strategic. He began to flip through possible solutions.</p><p>Vesemir. He would go back to Vesemir. He would push past his feelings of shame, his feelings of guilt. He would ask for help from someone he probably didn’t deserve to ask for anything. He would do it for Essi. He would do it now before he talked himself out of it.</p><p>Jaskier swept right back through the doors and into the hall. He rushed up to the witcher, still listening to the attentive women.</p><p>“Vesemir!” he blurted out, trundling towards him like a wobbly carriage.</p><p>Vesemir’s head snapped to him in surprise. His feline eyes contracted and focused on Jaskier. Jaskier had forgotten that he was a fine lady at a fine event. Approaching him forcefully in an overly familiar manner was jarring to everyone around him.</p><p>“Yes, my lady?” Vesemir asked, voice concerned and brow knitted. Jaskier could feel Vesemir observing him, trying to make sense of what was going on. Jaskier didn’t think he’d get used to this tonight; people with familiar faces looking at him as a stranger. It was like he was hiding behind a tree, just hoping it was wide enough to obscure him.</p><p>Jaskier dropped into a curtsey. “Pardon me Lord Vesemir.” He felt a flash of panic at the sound of his own voice. However, Yen had said it would be cloaked, so he pressed on. He looked apologetically at the ladies. “Please excuse my rudeness, ladies.” One of the women looked at him as though she’d just sniffed a glass of curdled milk. The other openly frowned at him. Her finger trailed down her own cleavage as it withdrew from Vesemir’s shoulder. “May I speak with you privately, sir?” asked Jaskier, undaunted.</p><p>“Yes of course, my lady,” said Vesemir. He reached for Jaskier’s elbow and gently led him to a corner, face still tense with concern. He could see the ladies turn towards one another, cutting their eyes at him disapprovingly.</p><p>“Sir,” Jaskier said. He turned to face Vesemir and stuttered to a stop at the look of care and patience on Vesemir’s face.</p><p>“Yes?” Vesemir prodded him kindly. They were in a corner near the door now, and a fresh breeze ruffled Jaskier’s hair. He’d gotten so hot in the ballroom.</p><p>Jaskier gathered himself. “I have a sister here, sir,” he said. He focused on the decorative pauldrons on Vesemir’s shoulder to help him keep his nerve.</p><p>“She was brought to the masquerade against her will. Worse still, she is a child, under your age requirement, and she may have had a charm put on her to inhibit her choice. Pliant, I believe it is called.” He finished and met Vesemir’s eyes. They were dangerously sharp.</p><p>“Who?” he asked intensely. “What is her name? And who brought her here?”</p><p>It was the reaction Jaskier had been hoping for. “Her name is Essi. She is here with Stregobor,” he answered.</p><p>Vesemir’s eyes grew harder still. “I didn’t know Stregobor had two children.” He said.</p><p>It made sense. Of course the head of the mage’s council and the head of the witcher’s council knew of each other.</p><p>“Step child.” Jaskier responded firmly. His pulse raced.</p><p>“And he forced your sister to attend tonight?”</p><p>“Yes. She is thirteen years of age,” said Jaskier.</p><p>Vesemir’s face lit with anger. He quickly gained control and his expressions grew calm once more. Then he smiled graciously and squeezed Jaskier’s arm softly. “Thank you for telling me Lady,” he said. “I am responsible for everything that goes on under my roof. But I can’t always know what that is unless someone is brave enough to tell me.”</p><p>Jaskier bowed his head slightly and lowered his eyes. He was surprised at how quickly these gentler gestures were coming to him when he tried.</p><p>“She is fortunate to have a caring and protective sister. I’ll take care of it,” said Vesemir. He turned to leave, but Jaskier touched his sleeve.</p><p>“Please,” said Jaskier. “Can you just take her away? Without him knowing why? I don’t want him to be cross with her.”</p><p>“Don’t worry young lady,” said Vesemir, in a reassuring voice. He patted Jaskier’s hand. “I have some experience handling him. You may wait in the library. That’s where I’ll take her. Ask any guard to escort you.”</p><p>Jaskier curtseyed again, and watched Vesemir’s solid back disappear through the ballroom doors. He deflated like a balloon in relief. He had gotten through an entire conversation with Vesemir without detection. Now Vesemir would help Essi. Jaskier would just confirm that she was alright. Obviously he trusted Vesemir, but he wouldn’t be able to rest until he saw Essi with his own two eyes, safe, and happy. He would go to the library.</p><p>Jaskier didn’t need a guard to escort him to the library, obviously. He knew most of Kaer Morhen like the back of his hand. He knew the first and second floors anyway. He hadn’t been up to the private quarters, but he knew the library well. The library was here on the first floor, and he’d been there a thousand times to deliver messages to Vesemir, or to ask him for decisions about the livestock.</p><p>But he couldn’t go there right away. He wanted to personally check on Essi, but if he spoke to her with Vesemir present, that would end poorly.</p><p><em>Essi, here is your sister.</em> He pictured Vesemir saying. Then Essi would say, <em>I don’t have a sister, who is this strange person? </em>And he would have to reveal himself.</p><p>No, he couldn’t go to the library yet. He would kill time, wait until Vesemir took her to the library and left her there. Then Jaskier would sneak in and talk to Essi. The way Yen had explained it, if someone knew about the illusion, they would be able to see through it. So all Jaskier had to do was tell Essi that it was him, under an illusion. Then she would see him for who he was. But he had to do it without Vesemir present.</p><p>He would make sure she was safe and happy. He would tell her that Stregobor kicked him out and that he had to leave, but would contact her soon, once he had everything figured out. Jaskier wandered to the table that held the drinks. He needed to pass a few moments, and a nice relaxing glass of sparkling wine could help.</p><p>He picked up a glass of wine and turned around a little too quickly. He bumped right into a broad chest, splashing it onto an unsuspecting man in all black.</p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry, my Lady,” said Eskel, with his rumbling metallic voice.</p><p>Jaskier froze, eyes wide, hand clutching the wine glass between them. He stared a long moment as Eskel reached past him to take a towel from the table behind him. Jaskier looked helplessly at Eskel’s biceps as he grabbed the towel and dabbed at the champagne on his neck and chest. The witcher absently popped open a button or two to dry his chest.</p><p>Jaskier’s throat went dry. His eyes followed the towel, dabbing at the soft skin and curling black hair revealed by the act.</p><p>“Oh gods, no,” said Jaskier, finding his voice. “No, oh, that was me. That was my bad thing.”</p><p>
  <em>Fuck, shit, fuck. He was making no sense.</em>
</p><p>“I mean to say,” he scrambled for words.</p><p>Eskel smiled politely and set the towel down on a passing tray. He straightened his collar. “It’s fine, it’s not a problem,” he said. “That’s how witchers drink anyway. We splash it on our necks.”</p><p>“Oh, no. I don’t think that’s right,” said Jaskier.</p><p>Eskel’s eyes twinkled. He was so close that Jaskier could feel the heat radiating from him. Eskel was sweaty from dancing, and the skin just above his now open collar gleamed with sweat and the drink he hadn’t been able to dry off. Jaskier licked his lips.</p><p>“No, I know. I’m just terrible at telling jokes,” said Eskel.</p><p>“No, your jokes are good,” said Jaskier, stupidly.</p><p>This was the moment Jaskier had plotted. It was what he had dreamed of. He was a spectacular, glamorous lady, and Eskel was looking right at him. This was his chance. He lifted his hand in front of Eskel. The bracelet with three red beads hung there over his satin gloves. Eskel focused on it and smiled.</p><p>It was a polite and courteous smile. It wasn’t the ravishing eager smile he had expected.</p><p>“I suppose we’ll be dancing later then?” Eskel asked.</p><p>“Yes,” said Jaskier. “If you’d like to.” He put his hand back down to his waist awkwardly.</p><p>“Of course,” said Eskel. “Just find Geoff and he’ll bring you to me. I look forward to it.” He nodded.</p><p>It wasn’t at all how Jaskier had pictured this going.</p><p>Eskel didn’t look at him dreamily. He didn’t fall at Jaskier’s delicate heeled feet. He didn’t kiss his hand or compliment him rapturously on the loveliness of his gown. In fact, all the dizzying warmth Jaskier was used to hearing in Eskel’s voice was absent.</p><p>“Me too,” said Jaskier, sounding lost.</p><p>Eskel bowed graciously and left. Jaskier watched him go with a combination of raging lust and heartbreak.</p><p>Jaskier didn’t know what he felt, exactly. Devastated. Disappointed. Lost. Alone. He downed the remaining wine. It didn't look very ladylike but he didn’t care. He wasn’t the only boozy harlot in this place. He downed another. He watched as Eskel’s handler brought him a lady to dance with that wasn’t him. Jaskier followed their movement carefully as Eskel, composed and gentlemanly, led the woman around the room in twirling loops.</p><p><em>She’s a stiff dancer</em>, sniffed Jaskier. <em>Wouldn’t know soul if it slapped her.</em></p><p>He sizzled with jealousy. Eskel wasn’t any more amorous with this lady, but at least she got to touch him. Jaskier downed more wine. The song ended and Eskel bowed to the lady and retreated to his handler again. The abrupt silence brought Jaskier back to himself.</p><p>Essi was in the library by now for sure, and Vesemir had to be gone. It was time to find his sister. He would deal with these messy Eskel feelings later, or better yet, not at all. Not ever. He shot one last look back at Eskel and turned on his heel, allowing what would likely be his last glimpse of him linger in his memory.</p><p>Jaskeir walked back into the hall, leaving Eskel and his hollow good manners behind. He darted between guests mulling around the hall, tears threatening his face. He didn’t even know why he felt so awful. This was the best case scenario. Knowing it wouldn't have made a difference if he could have danced with Eskel was the best thing that could have happened to him. Still, it hurt to feel his dreams draining from him. The masquerade. Eskel seeing him for the first time. It was all so meaningless. It was nothing like he’d imagined it.</p><p>His dreams had done so much of the work filling his empty soul. Every night when he’d gone home to a place that didn’t want him. Every day when he’d shown up to work at a place that didn’t really know who he was. All of these days, he’d had his dreams to sustain him. To nourish him. To dance at the masquerade. To feel Eskel look upon him with ardor and flame.</p><p>He felt so fucking empty all of sudden. So hungry. For what he couldn’t name.</p><p>Jaskier followed the hall as it bent around towards the library. He muttered to himself so that he could maintain focus and forward movement.</p><p>
  <em>End of this hall and take a left. Now a right. </em>
</p><p>He took the last corner to the last hall leading to the library.</p><p>And almost ran right into Vesemir.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>He needed to stop running into witchers.</p><p>“Ah, there you are,” the witcher said. “I wanted to keep an eye out for you so you would find the library. It’s just through this door.” He nodded to the library door.</p><p>“Ah yes. Thank you, Master Vesemir,” he said, trying not to sound nervous.</p><p>“Oh, just Vesemir is fine. And I never did ask your name.”</p><p>Jaskier swallowed. “Julianna,” he blurted out, then cursed himself inwardly. That was stupid. He shouldn’t have picked any variation of his real name. Whatever. After he left the library he would literally run back to the stables, and at first light, leave this place behind forever. He’d shed all of this pain. He’d start fresh.</p><p>“Pleasure to meet you Julianna,” said Vesemir.</p><p>“And you as well, sir,” he answered. He wondered if he sounded as empty as he felt.</p><p>“Good, good. Said Vesemir. “Now go say hello to your sister. Satisfy yourself that she is safe. Then I’ll escort you back to the masquerade.”</p><p>
  <em>Fuck, fuck, fuck. </em>
</p><p>“Oh no, that’s not necessary,” protested Jaskier. He smiled sweetly.</p><p>“I know, I know, but I insist,” said Vesemir, with chivalrous authority. “My witchers would be delighted to meet you. And I would be happy for someone so honest, brave, and protective, join our family. You must meet my boys.”</p><p>“Oh, thank you sir,” said Jaskier. He felt dazed. He didn’t know what else to say. There was nothing else he could say.</p><p>Jaskier smiled and dipped his head. There was no arguing now, without being disruptively and suspiciously rude. He turned slowly towards the library door. Vesemir pushed it open for him and he startled. The sound of throaty laughter and tinkling glasses greeted him. He stepped over the threshold and the door closed behind him. He stopped short and stared. Standing around the library, and draped on the furniture like the most luxurious fur stoles were several sorceresses, about ten or fifteen of them. The great shelves filled with witcher tomes loomed around them.</p><p>He scanned the room in shock and found Essi, sitting on a green velvet sofa, wedged between Triss Merigold and Philippa Eilhart.</p><p>She was munching cookies and smiling at Triss, who was telling an animated story, her hands flying to punctuate her words. Essi had a coat wrapped around her that was covered in cookie crumbs. She giggled and Triss mussed her hair like she was her very own little sister.</p><p>“Are you lost, dear?” asked a sorceress on his right. She was laying extravagantly on a chaise lounge and holding a glass of champagne. Her black silk gown trailed onto the rug and she looked slightly inebriated. She smiled helpfully.</p><p>“Oh, yes,” said Jaskier. He needed to leave before Triss noticed him and called him over. He couldn’t talk to Essi with other people around. He couldn’t blow his cover now. “Just looking for the coat room.”</p><p>Essi was extremely well cared for. A battalion of Nilfgaardians couldn’t match the nexxus of power that he’d just wandered into.</p><p>“Well darling,” the sorceress drawled, “you have wandered into the temporary lair of enchantresses. We take breaks here from casting our illusions and protecting Kaer Morhen.” She waved her hand languorously towards the ceiling.</p><p>“Lovely,” said Jaskier awkwardly.</p><p>The sorceress took a sip of her champagne and seemed to lose interest in him. “The coat room is down the hall to the right,” she said, pointing vaguely east.</p><p>Jaskier nodded. The feather on his mask bobbed slightly. “Thank you Lady.” He glanced once again at Essi. She was singing with Triss now. She looked relaxed and happy. She was safe. That was all that mattered now. He would find a way to tell her later that he’d been kicked out. He would send her a letter or intercept her at the market.</p><p>Jaskier swiftly turned and left.</p><p>“There you are,” said Vesemir. He stood outside the door exactly where Jaskier had left him. He’d hoped Vesemir would have changed his mind and wandered off. But the witcher thought Jaskier was a good catch for his pups. If he only knew.</p><p>“Is Miss Essi alright?” asked Vesemir.</p><p>“Yes, thank you,” said Jaskier swiftly. He surprised himself by smiling a genuine smile. She’s singing with Triss.”</p><p>“Good, good,” Vesemir said. “Triss is good at looking after younger girls. And they’ll all care for her like a cave full of mother bears until the end of the evening.” He inclined his head towards the closed door. “I wouldn’t want to cross a single one of them.”</p><p>That was the truth. Neither would Jaskier. Vesemir held out his elbow. Jaskier reflexively took it and Vesemir’s hand landed on his fingers.</p><p>“Now, whose beads did you choose, so I can deliver you to your witcher of first choice?”</p><p>Vesemir looked down at Jaskier’s wrist. His eyes crinkled with amusement. “A young lady who knows what she wants. Let’s get you your dance with Eskel.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Welllll what did you think?</p><p>Obviously this story is about Jaskier and Eskel, but I am having a bit of fun giving the supporting players their moments to shine. Lambert chapter four, Yen had chapter five. Vesemir had this chapter. I just feel like he's a dilf.</p><p>Alright, I'll meet you in the comments.</p><p>Thanks for reading!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Waltz of the Wolf</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jaskier gets his dance. He also learns something he doesn't want to believe.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome back loves.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier didn’t want to put too fine a point on it, not at an elegant event such as this one, but his day had been a real mind fuck. It was like someone had spun him around until he was sick, then shoved him out onto an iced over pond and expected him to sprint.</p><p>Seeing Essi safe and protected had released his heaviest burden. It rolled off of him and he inwardly groaned in relief.</p><p>But he was so overwhelmed and emotionally exhausted by now, that he simply shut down and followed Vesemir’s lead without a word. He couldn’t deny the master of Kaer Morhen, especially when the three red beads on his wrist indicated that he desperately wanted to dance with Eskel.</p><p>And he did want to dance with Eskel. He yearned for it. It was just packed down deep now, under so many layers: his shame, the lies, the dreams that would never come true, the fact that he couldn’t give Eskel the child he needed, and the fact that he was nothing and no one and had nowhere to go.</p><p>What’s more, he’d met Eskel like this, with his illusion, and the witcher hadn’t been impressed. Yen had said the disguise would make people see what they expected to see. Had Eskel seen someone plain, with dull skin and a listless smile? Someone ugly even, and unpleasant for him to look upon? The pain of Eskel’s completely polite indifference stung. He should have asked Yen to just choose one completely stunning visage for him.</p><p>The fact that it wasn’t really <em>him</em> Eskel had failed to react to, only helped a little. Regardless, Jaskier’s plan had failed. And it hurt.</p><p>But despite all this, he still had something solid to cling to...something greater than everything that had happened that night. The stubborn shining light of his love for Eskel still glowed like the North Star in his heart. He held on to it now. It would guide him. It was truer than everything else he was facing. He would follow Vesemir and he would remember that he loved Eskel. One step at a time. One moment at a time. And he would deal with Eskel’s indifference. He would enjoy his dance.</p><p>“I think you would be a wonderful match for Eskel,” intoned Vesemir. His voice, although somehow more fatherly and authoritative,was gravely, like the rest of them. Maybe the witcher making process caused that. They were almost back to the ballroom now. “He is a kind, respectful man. He would make someone an admirable husband.”</p><p>Jaskier smiled as agreeably as he could, and tried to stop his hand from trembling. The doormen practically sprinted to fling open the doors for Vesemir and his companion. One doorman, if asked later, would have described Vesemir’s companion as being petite and olive skinned. The other would have described her as statuesque and pale.</p><p>Now that Jaskier wasn’t consumed with worry for Essi, he was able to take in the glory of the ballroom. He gazed in wonder as they crossed back over the threshold. Bodies covered in ruffles and gauze ebbed and flowed and spun in elegant circles. The party had been going several hours now, so people were dancing closer, eyes hazed from drinking champagne and harboring lust.</p><p>Jaskier finally consciously noticed the beating heart of the ball. The music. There must have been twenty musicians on the stage, clad in deep blue, lost in their instruments, faces screwed up in the ecstasy of creating a melody they seemed to feel in their bones.</p><p>No, a <em>melody</em> wasn’t sufficient to describe it. They were creating fizzling, effervescent energy. Notes crafted by strings and wind and rhythm washed over the revelers, plucking at their innermost unspoken desires. Then they, in turn, moved their bodies as the music possessed them, amplifying the sensual energy a thousand fold. It was a feast for the spirit. Jaskier’s fingers began to twitch in time of their own accord. Jaskier’s body responded like that to music. He could be in a coma, but if he had heard this beat, his fingers would move, or his feet would tap.</p><p>Vesemir waited for him as he gazed, and smiled when he noticed Jaskier’s fingers tapping a beat on his arm. “They did a lovely job this year, didn’t they? The band is better than ever.”</p><p>“Yes sir, absolutely magnificent.”</p><p>Vesemir pointed up. “And the decor! We’re calling it The Firmament.”</p><p>Jaskier raised his eyes and let out a small gasp. The ceiling was obscured by mist so pitch black, that it looked like the mighty walls shot up into the nothingness of space. It didn’t look like the ceiling of a Keep. It looked like the night sky. Small, sharp points of lights were sprinkled across, lush and plentiful, as though scattered there by the gods themselves. It was a heady reminder that they were all simply one part of an infinite universe.</p><p>“Are you ready?” asked Vesemir. “This song’s about to end. Let’s get you in there now.”</p><p>“I’m ready.” Jaskier pulled his eyes away from the miraculous sight and followed the witcher.</p><p>Vesemir led him through the dim crowded room, expertly guiding him around bodies in motion. Most people parted and stood aside when they noticed them. Their eyes followed Vesemir so they could report back to their families what their host was like in the flesh.</p><p>Jaskier caught sight of Eskel swaying with a partner in green, and against all reason, his heart leapt again to his throat. He reminded himself not to expect that Eskel would be impressed with him. He had to put aside his childish dreams. He had to enjoy the dance, to love it for what it was, then to get out before time ran out or his luck failed.</p><p>Vesemir led him past the line of ladies waiting to dance with Eskel. They cast their eyes at him curiously. Then, he led Jaskier right past Eskel’s handler. Jaskier supposed that when you are the master of Kaer Morhen and the head of the Witcher’s Council, you don’t have to deal with things like handlers and waiting your turn.</p><p>Vesemir took Jaskier’s hand, as though to keep him from being sucked into the crowd around them. With the other hand, he tapped firmly on Eskel’s shoulder. Eskel was about to spin his partner, but when he felt the tap, he glanced over. Upon seeing Vesemir, he kissed her hand and bid her farewell. It was all very gentlemanly but Jaskier knew him well enough to detect a hint of relief. In a few moments, he would be just another person Eskel would be polite enough to dance with and a little relieved to let go of.</p><p>But it didn’t matter. As soon as Eskel’s eyes settled on him, he turned to goo again. Eskel must have gotten a fresh haircut for the event. His hair was close cropped on the sides, which accentuated his jawline. It was strong and tapered so beautifully. How Jaskier longed to place a kiss right in its cleft. Eskel’s mask covered much of his cheeks. His familiar scarring snaked out from the bottom of the mask, touching his full, bowed lips. What Jaskier longed to do to those lips couldn’t be spoken of in polite company.</p><p>“I have a special young lady I think you should dance with, Eskel,” said Vesemir.</p><p>Eskel smiled and inclined his head gallantly. “Yes, we met by the table. Good to see you again.”</p><p>These courteous nothings must’ve been drilled into him in preparation for the ball. Normally Eskel was polite but with fewer words and rarely a head bow. Jaskier lowered his gaze and found another sweet, appropriate smile. Eskel held out his hand formally.</p><p>“Shall we?”</p><p>Suddenly, Jaskier was tired of his glorious illusion. Sure, it was splendid, and Jaskier had always loved a gown. But it wasn’t real. The smile Eskel gave him every day in the stables was so much warmer, so much more affectionate, than the one he was giving this elegant masked woman.</p><p>Jaskier felt a curl of regret. He desired to pull off his mask and say <em>I’m Jaskier</em> to break the spell. He wanted Eskel to smile at him the way he normally did; easy and warm, and full of sparkling amber. But of course that would ruin everything.</p><p>Jaskier thanked Vesemir, who bowed slightly at the waist. Then, he gingerly placed his hand in Eskel’s.</p><p>Again, the touch was different than he had expected. He’d thought it would be electric, having Eskel touch him like this. This was a dance after all - an actual courting ritual.</p><p>But again.</p><p>There had been so much more tenderness when Eskel had touched his fingers in the stable the day when he’d tended to Lil Bleater. There had been more affection in Eskel’s touch when he’d helped Jaskier up after he fell on his ass. If he, the stableboy, elicited more familiarity and sentiment from Eskel than this lovely lady, Jaskier wished that he could pull off the illusion and experience tonight as himself.</p><p>But he couldn’t. So he would take what he could get.</p><p>Eskel led him to the floor and Jaskier did his best to glide gracefully. He concentrated so that he wouldn’t stumble as his eyes locked onto the back of Eskel in a smooth tight fitting jacket.</p><p>Jaskier loved Eskel’s body; it was large, thick, and muscular but also soft and pliant. But he’d never seen it like this, with his muscles shifting under a soft, shiny, fabric. Jaskier’s shoulder bumped against another couple and Eskel stopped and turned to pull him out of their path.</p><p>“Sorry,” said Eskel. He wrapped his arm around the small of Jaskier’s back and pulled him closer. He was still at a gentlemanly distance, but Jaskier’s entire body warmed at the feel of Eskel’s arm enveloping his waist like a steel band.</p><p>This close, Jaskier could see the formality in the tension at the corners of Eskels eyes and in his jawline. Eskel was nervous.</p><p>Jaskier leaned in close. “You don’t have to be nervous,” he whispered softly. Eskel did not relax but did offer a tight smile as though he realised he had been caught. It didn't really change anything.</p><p>When they reached the centre of the dance floor the witcher extended his arm fluidly. Jaskier twirled gracefully in response. Eskel rolled him close again, but still kept a respectful distance with a firm hand on his waist. His hand was holding him at a distance as much as he was holding him close. Jaskier timidly placed a hand on Eskel’s shoulder. It was so strong and substantial, flexing and relaxing. Eskel began to lead him in a graceful box step.</p><p>Jaskier followed his lead effortlessly. Not only was he a practiced dancer, but he found that their ability to communicate extended to the dancefloor. When Eskel stopped the motion of his hand, Jaskier responded like a reflex and used it for leverage to twist. When Eskel touched his waist with the barest ghost of touch, Jaskier turned like Eskel had pushed a button.</p><p>Eskel began to relax physically, once he realized how well they moved together. But nothing about his gaze opened. As lovely as it was to be touched by him, Jaskier yearned for the walls to come crumbling. For Eskel to see who he was.</p><p>It didn’t matter. He knew it didn’t matter. But inside of Jaskier, the childlike part of him was crying out; the child we all carry around inside of ourselves who never understands why things must always be complicated. Jaskier’s child was no different. It was shrieking now, questioning why things couldn’t make sense. Why did your parent’s actions have to affect you? And alright, the witchers needed partners to make babies of their own. But couldn’t they make an exception for him? Why couldn’t love conquer all?</p><p>Perhaps somewhere, some deity heard that child. Because at that moment, something happened. It could have been a coincidence. It could have been a gift from Melitele especially for Jaskier.</p><p>The song they were dancing to ended, but before Eskel could release him, the first few yearning notes of <em>Waltz of the Wolf </em>stretched over them. The aching chords were as familiar to him as his own name. Jaskier’s pulse quickened. He broke out into a dazzling smile.</p><p>They were playing his song.</p><p>“My favorite,” he mouthed.</p><p>If any force on earth could showcase his grace and sensuality, even behind an illusion, it was this dance. He knew it like he knew that oxygen would fill his lungs when he pulled in a breath. He’d practiced it until it had become every bit as natural.</p><p>Eskel smiled indulgently and bowed. Then he unfurled his arm to spin him. Jaskier shot his arm in the air then lowered it. He turned his head cheekily. He rolled his hips with the swing of the string instruments. Then he gave himself over to the music, swaying and spinning. He gave himself over completely to Eskel’s fingertips. He closed his eyes momentarily and felt a firm touch on a shoulder, then a soft touch on his hips. Jaskier responded to them as though he could read Eskel’s mind.</p><p>Eskel slid his fingers down his neck as a flourish before dipping him low. The witcher’s callused fingertips on the softest part of his neck sent goosebumps down his thighs. There was a swell in the music and Eskel spun him again. He caught Eskel’s eyes.</p><p>Eskel was smiling now, and it wasn’t a polite smile. It was an ecstatic smile. It radiated real, raw, joy. Jaskier wouldn't help but respond with a smile of his own, chest filling with relief.</p><p>Jaskier laughed as he danced. Joy bubbled up. He couldn't hold it in. Every time his body spun to face Eskel he locked eyes with him. Every time he saw Eskel, his eyes were warmer and more yearning. After a few moments of dancing, of spinning and clutching, Eskel’s gaze began to verge on predatory, but only if the predator loved his prey and only if the feeding and the consuming gave life instead of taking it.</p><p>A provocative vibration rocketed through his body as Eskel pulled them together snugly. There was no gentlemanly distance anymore, no absent-minded politeness. Jaskier felt the planes of Eskel’s stomach and the hardening of his broad chest as he pulled and pressed him there. Even through the mask, he could see Eskel’s eyes sparkle with lust and affection.</p><p>They had created their own little oasis on the dance floor. No one else existed. The air between them was electric. It crackled.</p><p>It was heaven.</p><p>Jaskier had never really believed in gods in the literal sense. It seemed like a bit much to pattern your real life on rules handed down by someone you had never met. But one concept he’d heard of, the lightness one achieves when they release their earthly burdens and reaches a higher plane, this was the first time he understood what that meant. As he moved in response to the urging of Eskel’s hands, and at the beck and call of the music thrumming in his veins, he let go. He didn’t have to think about how or why he would move. He just moved.</p><p>Eskel’s hands touched his shoulders, his waist, his neck, his fingertips. They were all over him. It was just like he had dreamed of. It was everything he had wanted.</p><p>The closing notes of the song approached too soon. Jaskier recognized the bridge and realized there were only a few more energetic loops to perform during the last stanza. Jaskier loosened his limbs and prepared to perform them with grace and beauty. But instead of sending him in a turn, Eskel surprised him.</p><p>When he should have been guiding him into a circle, Eskel yanked Jaskier harder to his chest. Jaskier, out of breath and sheened with sweat, heaved as Eskel clutched him tight, helpless against him but perfectly content.Their bodies were crushed together. Jaskier could feel the witcher's every breath and pounding heart. He could also feel that Eskel was excited.</p><p>Eskel's hands slipped from his waist, sliding lower to grip him by the hips. Even through layers of fabric, the heat of his fingers made their pressure felt. Jaskier submitted to the touch as he had done when those hands guided him in dance.</p><p>Then Eskel did something he wasn’t supposed to do. Eskel dropped his head into the crook of Jaskier’s neck and nuzzled him. Jaskier trembled against the barely-there touch of Eskel's stubble. His pulse raced. He hoped for the brush of Eskel’s lips there, against his neck and against his ear.</p><p>Eskel dragged his face up his neck and a shiver skittered up Jaskier’s spine. His body stirred with urgent, burning desire.</p><p>Then Eskel did something even more shocking. Eskel almost never broke the rules. But now he did so shamelessly. Confidently.</p><p>He pushed back his mask onto his forehead. Jaskier wondered at the beauty of his witcher, so glad to see his full face again. Then Eskel hooked one finger under Jaskier’s chin and tilted his head up until his mouth was close to his own. There was a moment of stillness, as if Eskel was giving him the chance to stop him. In response, Jaskier bared his neck, tilting his chin up hungrily. Eskel practically snarled and pressed his lips against his, hot and urgent.</p><p>They were both heaving and out of breath and drenched with sweat and lust. They pressed into each other’s lips and it was like a storm clearing. Eskel licked into his mouth in a very ungentlemanly manner. Jaskier suddenly believed in the gods.</p><p>If Jaskier had been paying attention he would have noticed that the ballroom had hushed. He would have noticed that the guests had stopped dancing and had turned their heads.</p><p>But he didn’t notice. He was lost in Eskel.</p><p>He was lost in the lips of the man he loved.</p><p>The music died down and the silence broke through their reverie, along with an insistent tug on Eskel’s sleeve from a harried handler. Eskel released Jaskier's lips and Jaskier could taste his reluctance to do so.</p><p>It was Geoff. He was a small mustachioed man in a waistcoat holding a pocket watch.</p><p>“Master Eskel,” he chided, “your mask is worn over your eyes.”</p><p>The witcher smiled tenderly at Jaskier, then he pulled his mask back down.</p><p>“My apologies,” said Eskel. He didn’t sound in the least apologetic, and he didn’t take his eyes off of Jaskier when he said it.</p><p>“Anyway,” said the handler. “It’s the next lady’s turn.” For good measure, he discreetly tugged Eskel’s sleeve again.</p><p>Eskel looped his other arm around Jaskier and squeezed his waist tighter, his electric golden gaze not leaving his. He rumbled a low growl. “Please don’t go.”</p><p>Geoff was not impressed. “Master Eskel,” he hissed, “don’t all of these ladies deserve a chance? It is, after all, the entire point of this ball. I declare, I’ve never seen you act like such a cad.” He huffed and pulled at his own waistcoat.</p><p>Eskel actually chuckled. Then he relaxed and loosened Jaskier regretfully. The witcher surveyed the line of ladies forming to his right. He was suddenly more popular a prospect than Geralt. The ladies in line fanned themselves with their handkerchiefs and straightened their bodices.</p><p>If Eskel was anything, he was a gentleman. He nodded courteously to them.</p><p>“As you say,” he said to the handler.</p><p>But he winked at Jaskier and bent to kiss his hand. "Don't go too far," he said soft enough just for Jaskier to hear. “Please. Stay close.”</p><p>Jaskier, too stunned and out of breath to speak.</p><p>As he floated away, the next lady grumbled to Geoff. “There’s no point to it now, is there? He made his decision, hasn’t he?”</p><p>Geoff snapped. “He tried the goods. It doesn’t mean he decided on them.”</p><p>Jaskier didn’t hear any of it.</p><p>He reached up to touch his lips as he made his way back through the crowd. He twirled in response to a swell in the music.</p><p>And his heart sang.</p><p>——</p><p>Jaskier rested his weight against the wall of the ballroom, the cool of the stones felt perfect o the sweat sheening his back. His chest still heaved from the dance, but it was slowing. His breaths were coming slower and calmer. But every one of them was cleansing.</p><p>Despite the spectacle, glitz, and glamour in the ballroom, he could only see one man. His eyes followed Eskel like homing beacons, his movements being obscured by others, then revealed again.</p><p>The crowd undulated around him. Impersonal. Unseeing.</p><p>But if his gaze could generate heat, Eskel would have felt him like rays of the sun in the midst of summer.</p><p>The stableboy watched the witcher. The witcher danced with one lady after another. One of these ladies would be the partner he chose tonight.</p><p>Jaskier took great pains not to think of that. He convinced himself to revel in the paradise he had just felt, the safety in Eskel’s embrace, the passion in his kiss. He watched and rode the waves of emotions more blissful than any orgasm he’d ever had. He knew that he probably looked like he was in a stupor. High on fisstech.</p><p>But he could be forgiven for it after what he had just experienced.</p><p>And since the only man he had ever loved would soon be pledging himself to another, he could be forgiven for taking a bit of petty satisfaction that Eskel was clearly not as interested in any of the other ladies as he had been in him. None could match his spirit and sensuality on the dance floor and he knew it.</p><p>Eskel’s current dance partner smiled prettily and her hands wandered down Eskels back. It seemed fairly obvious that she was hoping for a scorching kiss as well, to prove her sensual appeal. Her hand wandered lower as though the witcher’s ass was a lever that activated the whole thing.</p><p>Eskel, ever so graciously, detached her hand from where it slid to rest on his ass. He took her hand and kissed it and to anyone else, it would have saved her pride.</p><p>But the corners of Jaskier’s mouth quirked up in smug satisfaction.</p><p>He could be allowed it. It was the barest balm. But he drank it in.</p><p>“Lovely illusion,” came a familiar voice at his elbow. The voice cut through his daze with a grating, irritating ease.</p><p>Jaskier startled and whipped around. He was too surprised to hide the look of alarm. He was too caught off guard to stop his hands from clenching. He’d known Stregobor was here. He’d just been so at ease in his illusion that he had forgotten.</p><p>Stregobor chuckled acidly. “I don’t know how you got a sorceress to help you. I generally find them uncooperative to the extreme.”</p><p>“How did you know?”Jaskier whispered. It was an unhelpful question, really. But it was the one that came bursting out in his surprise.</p><p>“I’m the greatest mage on the continent Julian. Did you think you could fool me?” He frowned and looked him up and down. This brown, worn thing must be your work uniform. Charming. But I saw the trouble you’re causing. So I expect you to leave now.”</p><p>Jaskier had fully planned to leave. He only had moments until midnight; until everyone saw who he was and realized that he had walked in with an illusion.</p><p>Kissing Eskel while under an illusion was one more lie to add to the pile. He wouldn’t dwell on that now.</p><p>The hatred welling up in response to his stepfather provoked a rebellious reaction. The man had already kicked him out. Jaskier was already leaving Kaer Morhen. He had little else to lose. “Why the fuck do you care that I’m here?” he spat. The music was loud but they were standing close enough to be heard as long as they hissed. So Jaskier hissed. “Essi made it. She’s here. Isn’t that what you wanted?”</p><p>“Yes and she got a <em>private</em> audience with a witcher,” said Stregobor. “She’s inexperienced, but I’m sure her youth and beauty will impress.”</p><p>Revulsion swept Jaskier at the implications of his tone. Stregobor thought Vesemir had taken Essi for some kind of audition.</p><p>“You’re disgusting,” he bit out. “You don’t even love her. She’s just a tool to you. For position. Power.”</p><p>“Oh gods,” said Stregobor, laughed as though he pitied him. “You're like an actual infant. Look around you. He swept his hands at the well groomed, lavish women laughing and spinning. “That’s what pretty, well-born girls are for. It always has been and it always will be. It’s the nature of things. I hardly invented it. Besides, we all have roles to play, and we don’t always get to choose them.”</p><p>“That doesn’t make it right.”.</p><p>Stregobor narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this anyway. I’m growing tired of your inanity and petulance. You shouldn’t even be here.”</p><p>Rage swept through him. “Why can’t you just leave me be? You’ve won. I’ll leave when I choose to.” He was leaving soon anyway but he just couldn’t give the man the satisfaction.</p><p>Stregobor grasped Jaskier’s arm with his bony fingers. He tried to pull free but the man was stronger than he looked. It took Jaskier a few good shakes. But the mage wasn’t deterred. He leaned closer still. “You’re leaving the party now. I <em>saw </em>you kissing one of the witchers like a <em>whore</em>. It’s shameful to Essi and to me. You’re leaving the ball and you’re leaving now. You’re taking the gondola down and you’re not coming back. Otherwise I’m going to march straight to Eskel and tell him who you really are.”</p><p>Jaskier jutted out his chin. He knew he was in too deep, but he was so sick of this man. He was sick of everything.</p><p>“How do I know you aren’t lying? What if <em>you</em> were the one who plotted the attacks on Kaer Morhen? The only reason I ever believed it was my mother was because <em>you</em> told me and you produced a note that looked like her handwriting. I was a child so of course I trusted you. Sure, a few people in town said it too, but you could be the one who spread the tale. But I don’t trust you anymore. You could have faked that note. You could have lied. You could be the one telling people lies.” It all came tumbling out and it felt freeing.</p><p>The mage only stepped closer still. Jaskier was disappointed to see that his words hadn’t caused so much as a twinge of surprise or weakness on his face. He seemed as sure as ever. “Do you know the best, most incontrovertible evidence that it was her and not me who plotted against them?” he asked Jaskier.</p><p>“What?” Jaskier crossed his arms. The mage was so close, he just needed something between them. “What’s your evidence?”</p><p>Stregobor’s eyes glinted in anticipation of winning the game. “I’m alive and she’s dead.” He poked Jaskier’s chest and Jaskier swatted his hand away. He tried to understand what Stregobor was saying.</p><p>“So?” he challenged him.</p><p>“Do you think the witchers would have let me live if I had acted against them? It’s my deepest suspicion after all, that <em>Vesemir</em> had your mother killed.”</p><p>Shock stole Jaskier’s breath. It stole his words. Stregobor’s mouth curled into a smile. “Yes your precious master likely killed your mother. Maybe with his own sword. Maybe he hired someone, or sent a lackey.”</p><p>Jaskier coughed and regained his voice. “That’s not true. He wouldn’t.” He cast around for reasons why it wasn’t true. “You said she took her own life.”</p><p>“I was trying to protect you,” said Stregobor. “I was trying to protect you from the curse of a lifetime. Can you imagine? You trying to exact revenge on someone you could never beat? Vesemir would squash you like a bug if you ever tried to avenge her. But now I see you here, against my express wishes, with your tongue down Eskel’s throat. You’ve forced my hand. I can no longer protect you.”</p><p>Jaskier knew Stregobor had never protected him a day of his life. “No!” Jaskier said, his voice hissing even more heatedly under his breath. He began to imagine a world where Vesemir, the man he looked up to, the man who had given him the closest thing he had to a home, had killed his mother. It could not be. He refused to believe it.</p><p>“You know I speak true. It’s the witcher way. A quiet unassuming assassination. Do you think they gained self determination without the cost of life? The night they wrested control from us, the mages, and the kings, they shed blood. It stained the halls of more than one castle. So why wouldn't they kill the person who planned to massacre them? Isn’t it worthy of death, by anyone’s standards? Boy, I wouldn’t be standing here in front of you breathing if I had taken part. And everyone who did take part, is no longer breathing.”</p><p>Jaskier almost cried out in pain. But instead he shook his head to clear his thoughts.</p><p>“No.” It was apparently all he could think to say. “No, no, no.”</p><p>Stregobor just shrugged. “An infant could have connected all of those pieces. You’re an adult now. It speaks to your infantile need to love your mother and earn Vesemir’s love that you hadn’t put it together.”</p><p>Jaskier tried to focus. He felt dizzy. Stregobor just kept talking.</p><p>“You’d really better leave. Now that I’ve been forced to share this rather obvious thing with you, it puts your presence here in an even more dire spin on things. You lied about who you were because you were plotting revenge. You wanted to stab Vesemir in his sleep. That’s why you stay in the stables from him to time. You’re learning all of their movements and locations at night. Seducing one of his favorites. I should probably tell them about you myself so that I’m not placed under suspicion just by virtue of my familial ties to you. I could be their most trusted ally twice.”</p><p>“No. No. He wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t have.” What was he even saying? Jaskier stared at him, pain and anguish warring in his breast.</p><p>Everything was so wrong. He needed to breathe. He needed to think. Suddenly the masquerade was stifling and the masks floating in his vision, creepy and terrifying.</p><p>He heard a clock chiming midnight, the first clang resonating under his skin. Stregobor or no, he had to get out of this place before his illusion deteriorated.</p><p>“Now,” said Stregobor. “Get out and never come back.”</p><p>Jaskier turned and fled.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whew darlings, that was a rollercoaster I know. How is everyone holding up? Let me know what you think of the twists? I'll meet you in the comments.</p><p>(also, can you tell that I used to be an avid dancer?)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. You Left Something Behind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jaskier tries to leave the grounds of Kaer Morhen before his illusion evaporates.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As Jaskier ran, the illusion began to glimmer, thin and transparent. He picked up the pace, his shoes slapping and his pulse pounding.</p><p>Blessedly, he cleared the castle, the gate, the moat, and the stables by the time it began to disintegrate in a way that would be noticeable to others. He dodged behind the cover of a tall stretching pine tree, dropping his hands to his knees and gulping for breath. His mother’s gown shimmered and flickered out, revealing his dark brown work tunic and trousers.</p><p><em>Goodbye, </em>he thought as the last glow of the illusion died like embers. He remembered the necklace and reached to touch it. At least it was still there.</p><p>As his breathing slowed and his mind stopped spinning, Stregobor’s voice sounded cruelly in his mind. He had called Jaskier infantile and a whore. But those words hadn’t infiltrated even the surface of his psyche. He did not care what Stregobor thought of him. He only put up with that kind of treatment to maintain access to his sister, who he truly didn’t think he could live without. But his stepfather didn’t have much emotional hold on Jaskier by himself.</p><p>The man had come into his life when he’d already built a good sense of himself. For the entirety of his first formative decade, he’d been raised solely by his mother. She wasn’t the softest of women but she’d always made sure he knew that he was important and loved. She taught him to hold his head high...to be proud and confident. And if that hadn’t been enough to imbue him with a sense of self, Kaer Morhen had. Ironically, given Stregobor’s purpose in sending him there, his job at Kaer Morhen had only increased his confidence.</p><p>Sure, he didn’t look like a beauty at work, and his position wasn’t glamorous. But he’d learned so much so quickly, and been given a surprising amount of responsibility. His knowledge about the care of the animals was prized and appreciated by the witchers, who took these kinds of things seriously indeed.</p><p>No, the words that had sent him into a spiral were the ones about Vesemir. The thought that Vesemir could have killed his mother was wrenching. Somewhere inside him, he knew if he believed it, it would wound him in a way he could never heal from.</p><p>Jaskier believed so many things because of what Stregobor had told him as a child. Now he didn’t know what to believe. He had to start at the beginning and piece it all together, allowing for any possible lies from his stepfather. But he couldn’t now.</p><p>He was exhausted and just needed to get out of this place. His identity, his mother, his lies, it was all stuffed into a bomb with a short fuse. He had lit it by angering Stregobor. Now he needed to get far away before it exploded in his face.</p><p>Once he caught his breath, he decided to backtrack to the stables to retrieve what was left of his mother’s dress. He couldn’t be sure what kind of woman she had been. But he wasn’t going to leave it to be tossed out with yesterday’s pig slop. It was all that he had, other than the necklace. He wasn’t going to leave Kaer Morhen without it.</p><p>He left the shelter of the tree and ducked back into the stables. The familiar door seemed to recognize him and swung open with barely a creak. The horses snuffled and scuffed at his presence. The cabinet door on the far side of the stables was ajar. He thought he’d closed it, but he’d been standing in front of Yennefer about to get his illusion. It had been such an outlandish, distracting moment. The illusion seemed like a dream already, sinking further and further into unreality. He nudged open the cabinet door and his heart sank. There was nothing in it but some dust and a few stray pieces of hay.</p><p>He slapped his hand against the wall behind it and slumped forward. He brought his forehead all the way against the wood as he leaned, suddenly feeling ill. Several wretches spasmed in his throat. He almost threw up but he didn’t. He managed to breathe through it, then straightened again slowly.</p><p>The beginnings of bitterness and self pity snuck into his heart. He eyed a stool in the corner and pictured sitting on it and crying. Just sobbing. And something even more insidious crept into his mind.</p><p>He pictured Eskel finding him and wrapping his arms around him. Listening to him. Fixing this somehow. Eskel was so sensible and even keeled. His ability to be focused and solve problems in the midst of unruly emotions felt almost supernatural to Jaskier.</p><p>It was childish. Wanting to be rescued. Fixed. Maybe he was infantile after all. Maybe it was just a symptom of how out of control this had all gotten.</p><p>But if he were being honest, it was an impulse he had every day. Go to Eskel. Tell him about your day. Share with him the poem you discovered. Tease him till he blushed beautifully. Find solace in him.</p><p>He felt a bit guilty, wanting so much of him.</p><p>Jaskier didn’t have any reason to feel guilty. He didn’t just take from Eskel. He had his own gifts and sometimes they were just what Eskel needed.</p><p>His loud mouth and pettiness came in handy when people tried to take advantage of Eskel’s patience, or when they took him for granted simply because he never made a fuss. Jaskier might just be ‘the help’ but he had his own ways of shutting these kinds of people up, or hustling them away and smoothing the way for his favorite witcher. They were good for each other as master and stableboy, and even as friends, if that’s what they were.</p><p>A horse whinnied softly and Jaskier was brought from his daze of thoughts. It was Scorpion, Eskel’s black horse. Jaskier approached him and gently patted him on the nose.</p><p>“I would never take him for granted. I would love him.”</p><p>He remembered being pressed up against Eskel on the dance floor in the ballroom, encircled by him, sunken into his lips. They would make a brilliant team in so many more ways if given the chance. Scorpion looked at him balefully and shook his head.</p><p><em>Fuck</em>. He was pleading a case, long closed, to a horse.</p><p>“Say goodbye to him for me,” he whispered, forlornly, feeling suddenly very heavy and tired to the bone. His heart ached with loss. There was nothing else to be done now. He had to get to Draakul.</p><p>He would go back into town and check into an inn for the night. Then the next day, who knew? A woman named Hilda had a boarding house for single men. Maybe he’d go there. He could always send a message to Essi through her minder, and then he’d find a way to see her.</p><p>It was nighttime, but he found his way fine. There were far more lights than usual. Each path was dotted with torches and lamps for the guests. The misty dragons curled around the castle cast a soft light that reached across the grounds of Kaer Morhen. He slipped easily down the paths between the lanterns.</p><p>Soon, he was back where his evening had begun. Draakul sat hovering and glowing, alone and obedient. It had no passengers. Even the security and staff were gone. At first it seemed odd, but then Jaskier remembered that it was midnight. No one missed the choosing ceremony, not even the staff. They would cram into the ballroom and watch from the back. They all wanted to watch the magical presentation and be the first to know who the witchers would choose.</p><p>Who would Eskel choose?</p><p>Eskel had kissed him. They'd had practically explosive chemistry. It wasn’t unthinkable that Eskel would stand on that stage and choose him. Well. Her. Julianna. The thought filled him with undeniable satisfaction. But if Eskel chose her, and she wasn’t there, what would he do? Move to the next girl probably. That was for the best. This was too messy. Too complicated.</p><p>He clenched his fists as he climbed the wooden platform next to the gondola and he repeated to himself</p><p>
  <em>This is for the best.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>This is for the best.</em>
</p><p>He would repeat it until he believed it.</p><p>On the platform was a table with a switch. If there was no one there to operate it, and there usually wasn’t, the staff could flip it themselves. Then they had about five minutes to get inside the gondola before it began moving. Jaskier flipped the switch on the control panel and spun around to look one last time at the Keep. He tried to memorize how it looked in that moment, stuffed with revelers, mist dragons curling around it. Then he climbed inside of Draakul, pulled the door closed, and sat down on a bench.</p><p>
  <em>This is for the best.</em>
</p><p>He didn’t believe it yet.</p><p>“Fuck.” He said it out loud and it ricocheted miserably off the walls of the gondola with no one else to hear it.</p><p>Draakul lurched forward, the opening movement to precede the trip down the mountain. Jaskier pressed his nose to the magical window for what could be his last glimpse of the grounds of Kaer Morhen.</p><p>Would it be his last glimpse? What if he found out that Vesemir had killed his mother? Would he have to come back here to try to seek revenge? Would his honor require it?</p><p>He couldn’t contemplate it. He would fall apart. He pulled his arms up against his chest and squeezed his hands together.</p><p>It would be better if this were the last time.</p><p>Draakul lurched again, but instead of descending with a smooth dip, it stopped with a screeching creak, having moved only a short distance.</p><p>“Fuck,” he said again. Sometimes it did this. Sometimes it didn’t take the first time and you had to reset the lever.</p><p>Jaskier jumped down from the carriage, back into the night. He sailed over the steps with a hop, his feet thudding back on the grassy earth. He turned towards the platform, which was now a few paces away. He took two steps towards it before he realized that he was no longer alone. There was a figure standing on the platform. He froze, fear lurching inside him. The glow of the lanterns behind the figure cast it in shadows. He looked closer. Then he realized who it was and the fear flooded away.</p><p>Eskel stood on the platform, lever in hand, eyes darting around, wild with worry. He had stopped Draakul. “Jaskier I found you!” His voice rasped out jagged and relieved. His eyes were red. His formal jacket was unlaced and his mask was gone.</p><p>Eskel leapt down from the platform and closed the distance between them before Jaskier could even process what was going on. Eskel smacked into him in his inelegant rush. Jaskier teetered on his feet but before he could step backwards to correct himself, Eskel grabbed him and pulled him tight to his chest, gathering him into an embrace. Eskel dropped a shower of kisses onto his temple and a clumsy one onto his ear. Then he pressed into him and inhaled.</p><p>Eskel had never kissed him before. Excluding moments on dance floors under cover of illusions, the extent of their physical contact up until now had been incidental touches. Nudges of shoulders infused with giddiness. Pats on the back lingering too long. Soft casual brushes of fingers and awkward bumps of knees. Eskel had never hugged him like this, tight and desperate. Not when he wasn’t wearing an illusion.</p><p>Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut and melted into the witcher’s embrace. Could Jaskier die from the relief and joy he was feeling in Eskel’s arms?</p><p>“Dear gods, you scared the shit out of me,” said Eskel “I thought you were going to leave me. Please don’t leave me.” His voice caught on a sob and he pulled Jaskier so tight he thought his back would pop. “Don’t leave me.” He whispered it fiercely into Jaskier’s neck.</p><p>Jaskier had never seen him like this...had never heard him like this. Raw. Trembling. It made him want to fall to his knees, clasp his hands together and vow to give the man everything he could ask for. Anything he wanted.</p><p>He had been a hair's breadth away from leaving him.</p><p>But it only took those three words <em>don’t leave me</em> from Eskel to make it all crumble. To make his plan of escape and all of his intentions to shatter like an ice floe under the warming sun. He would do anything for Eskel. He’d follow him into hell. Damn the consequences.</p><p>Along with this miraculous influx of determination, Jaskier found the presence of mind to wonder why Eskel was so upset. As far as Eskel knew, Jaskier was going home for the day. As far as Eskel knew, Jaskier had never come back up.</p><p>“What’s wrong Eskel? What’s going on?”</p><p>Eskel let him go and held him at arm’s length, eyes hurricanes of emotion. Jaskier couldn’t help himself. He let his hands linger on Eskels waist. It was far too intimate but it matched the energy Eskel was giving him. And Eskel didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he let his hands slip down Jaskier’s arms and he clasped his.</p><p>“I wanted to choose you. But you weren’t there.” His voice broke again and Jaskier felt a stab of guilt and regret. He pictured handsome, hopeful Eskel looking for the one he had chosen and finding no one. Had he been embarrassed? Disappointed? He wanted to comfort him. But what did this mean? Eskel chose him? Or the illusion?</p><p>“You chose me? Jaskier?”</p><p>“Yes, you,” said Eskel. “Well, the false name you gave Vesemir. Who else was I going to choose?”</p><p>“You knew it was me??” The implications of it blossomed before him. If Eskel had known, then Eskel had kissed him, Jaskier, the stableboy of Kaer Morhen.</p><p>“Of course I fucking did. I may be a simple witcher but I would recognize you anywhere Jaskier.” Eskel squeezed his hands tight and looked frantically into his eyes.</p><p>“When? How?” Jaskier’s words were staccato breathy beats of shock. “You didn’t seem impressed at first.” He remembered the polite indifference.</p><p>“Well because it wasn’t you,” said Eskel. “I was trying my best to play my part, do my bit for Kaer Morhen, but instead I couldn’t stop mooning over the stableboy. Every pretty face and coy smile just left me feeling more alone.”</p><p>Jaskier pictured Eskel there, looking around the masquerade, thinking of him. He couldn’t name how that made him feel, but it strengthened him nevertheless.</p><p>“Then when did you know it was me?” Jaskier’s mind practically whirred, attempting to put it all together.</p><p>“The minute you started that dance. The one you love.” Eskel’s eyes were shining now, though he still had an air of anxiety.</p><p>“<em>Waltz of the Wolf</em>?”</p><p>“Yes. That one. I watch you do it almost every night. You’re always dancing with that broom. The music is usually in your head so I never know what you’re dancing to.”</p><p>“Fuck, that’s embarrassing.” Jaskier pictured how goofy he must look twirling around with a broom in a stable. Of course he didn’t actually feel embarrassed. Not if it had helped Eskel see him. Not if it had ended in Eskel accidentally kissing his ear.</p><p>“Oh yes,” Eskel said knowingingly. “So humiliating to have a handsome princely face, and the grace of a fucking ballerina. I was the one feeling like an idiot for being jealous of a damn piece of wood.”</p><p>Jaskier beamed. “You think I’m handsome?” Somehow that was the only part he had really caught.</p><p>Eskel snorted. A breeze caught a few whisps of his hair and blew into his face. The frogs out in the grass croaked as though they were also making their opinions known.</p><p>“I won’t dignify that,” he said. “You’re the handsomest man I’ve ever seen. And the minute you threw up your arm, then did that little dip, I knew it was you.” He rubbed his thumbs against Jaskier’s palms. He was still cradling his hands. He looked down at them as he spoke the next part. “And once I knew it was you, I could see you. Like a curtain being drawn back.”</p><p>“Were you glad?” Jaskier was beginning to get the idea. But he still needed to hear it.</p><p>“Jaskier you can’t know what that did to me. Realizing it was you...thinking for the first time that there was hope. That maybe you wanted me too.” For Eskel, this was a lot of words. He was cracked open, his reserve gone. He was practically babbling.</p><p>“Of course I want you! Of course I do!” Jaskier insisted, his voice growing a little louder than he’d intended.</p><p>Eskel tilted his head and he looked exasperated. “But I looked for you. I chose you. And you were gone.” There was pain in his voice, and Jaskier wanted to die knowing he had caused it. “And I thought...maybe he just wanted to dance. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. There was no way that <em>you</em> could want <em>me</em>.”</p><p>Eskel sounded like he was trying to solve an extremely vexing puzzle. He swallowed hard and looked at Jaskier hopefully.</p><p>“Oh Eskel. Eskel. I. Gods. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry--” he pleaded. He wanted to hug him. To comfort him. To tell him they could be together. But he couldn’t let the farce of his identity go on any longer. It was time. It was time to come clean before he got too comfortable. Before he started believing Eskel was his to keep. “I do want you. I do want you to choose me. I didn’t leave because of you. It’s me. I’m the problem. I’ve been lying to you. And I think it’s the kind of lie that can ruin things. I didn’t want to---”</p><p>“Jaskier.” Eskel cut him off. He sounded firm now, ready to state his case, though Jaskier didn’t know for what. “I was afraid that was why. But it’s just a name. I don’t care. Julian. Jaskier. It makes no difference to me.”</p><p>Jaskiers throat went dry. He pulled his hands away. It’s not that he didn’t want to touch Eskel, he just suddenly felt self conscious. Vulnerable. He prepared for the worst. “How do you know about my name?”</p><p>Eskel rubbed his cheek on the scarring and shifted in place. “Well, when the ceremony was about to start, I tried to find you. I tore through the party, ran down the halls. It probably caused a scandal. They’ve been trying to train me on how to act like a proper society man.” He chuckled to himself darkly. “I asked a few people about you, but everyone had a different description of the woman I had kissed on the dance floor.”</p><p>“Tricky illusion,” said Jaskier.</p><p>“Yeah. But you left these behind.” Eskel reached into the neck of his jacket. He pulled out a string with three red beads dangling from it. It hung from Eskel’s finger, a relic from a moment where he had said the witchers’ name three times.</p><p>Jaskier hadn’t even noticed that he’d lost it. He touched his wrist as though to confirm what was already obvious.</p><p>“I was trying to hold onto you, remember? So when you pulled away, the beads came off in my hand. I guess I wanted to keep something of yours so I tucked them into my jacket. And I’m glad I did. At first, I had Geoff running around having ladies hold out their hands to find the person without her beads. We still couldn’t find you. But then I realized, there was no way any other lady had received three red beads at the door. So I found Triss in the library. I asked her to do a proper locating spell so I could go to you in time. But it didn’t work. So I had to tell her who you really were. Then it worked.”</p><p>“You told her that girl was me?”</p><p>“I had to. I’m sorry. I had to find you.”</p><p>“I understand.” There was no way Jaskier could be angry. Not with the man standing right in front of him looking at him like that, with vulnerability and affection. Not when revealing his secret had ended in this moment. In learning that Eskel returned his feelings. “And you met my little sister,” Jaskier said slowly. It was a guess, but he couldn’t think how else Eskel would know his real name.</p><p>“Yes,” Eskel smiled again. “She’s a smart girl. Bright. Funny. I like her.”</p><p>“She is.” Jaskier flushed with pride, as he always did when someone brought up Essi.</p><p>“She told me what your stepfather said. She had to talk fast because the choosing ceremony only lasts so long. But she got most of it out I think.”</p><p>“And the locating spell led you here…" Jaskier said as it fell into place. “So you still came for me? Even after learning the truth?”</p><p>“Yes.” Eskel said simply. “I ran straight here like a banshee was on my tail.”</p><p>“So you...don’t...care? About that? Or that I hid it from you?” Jaskier almost choked out the words, afraid of what he would hear.</p><p>“Jaskier,” Eskel stopped and blew out a breath and tucked the beads back into his jacket, close to his heart. “I don’t know everything that happened that night we stopped the attack. Vesemir keeps everything so close to the vest. But I won’t judge you for what your mother might have done. Or, what Stregobor is claiming she did. If any of us were judged by our parents we’d all be fucked.”</p><p>Jaskier thought of the families of the witchers. They never talked about them and he’d rarely thought about what had landed them at Kaer Morhen.</p><p>“Let me tell you what we’re dealing with in Kaer Morhen as far as parents,” continued Eskel. “Geralt’s mother abandoned him.” Eskel gestured at an empty spot as though Geralt would magically appear. “And here’s something no one talks about, because you can’t. But Lambert’s father killed his mother.”</p><p>“He did?” Jaskier’s eyes bugged. He felt a rush of empathy for the prickly witcher. You never knew what people had gone through. He thought of how Lambert had helped him that night and he wanted to hug him.</p><p>“And,” said Eskel, “Yen’s dad abused her.” He dipped his head down and said a little quieter, “and we all think she killed him for it.”</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes somehow got wider.</p><p>“But we don’t pry. Or judge. Because we know the evils that parents can inflict. And Vesemir? Before he threw off the kings and mages? He helped them do the trials on us. I mean he didn’t actually perform them. But he didn’t stop them. Not that one man could have stopped so many, and it must have seemed normal to him, since the same had been done to him. But that’s still the reality of this place.”</p><p>Jaskier had heard about how the trials killed most of the kids. It seems so horrible as to be completely unreal...like a disturbing dream you would wake screaming from and that would make you feel sour and tired all day. It was part of why he had such a tender, nurturing reaction to the witchers, deadly warriors though they were. A little part of his heart saw them as those children who had to grow up way too fast.</p><p>Eskel watched his face fall and contort into sympathetic grief. He reached and touched his cheek, cradling it. Jaskier impulsively nuzzled further into his palm.</p><p>“The point is,” Eskel’s voice grew softer. “Our parents are all fucked. Even our parent figures have skeletons and regrets.”</p><p>One on hand, it was oddly comforting. On the other hand, it made Stregobor’s claims about Vesemir suddenly seem more credible. He had to ask. “Stregobor says that Vesemir probably killed my mother in retaliation for plotting the attacks. Do you think that’s true?” Just saying the words was upsetting. But the truth was pouring out like a geyser, so it may as well all be released.</p><p>“I wouldn’t listen to that man. He sounds like a real piece of shit,” Eskel said heatedly.</p><p>“But,” Jaskier persevered, “you just said yourself that Vesemir has done dark things.” He didn’t actually want it to be true. But since they were talking about it, he may as well continue chasing the truth.</p><p>“Yeah but Jask, that was the point of the rebellion. Of reaching out to the other schools. Building the witcher’s council. Vesemir saw it as a chance to make things right. An opening. To gather support from the schools and throw off the mages and kings. No more killings. No more experiments. Proper justice. He risked everything, including his life, to make us better. So do I think he would have killed a woman? A mother? Out of revenge? Instead of bringing her to face justice in front of a judge or council?” He shook his head slowly. “Even if all of this is true, which I’m not going to just accept. The answer is no. I don’t think so Jaskier. I can’t make promises. But I don’t think so.”</p><p>Eskel continued, even more softly. He tucked a lock of hair behind Jaskier’s ear. “But Jaskier, the important question right now, at this moment, during this choosing ceremony, which will be ending at some point tonight is, would it make a difference to you? Would you reject me if it were true?”</p><p>That was simple. “No, of course not. I want to be with you.”</p><p>Eskel slipped his hand down to the crook of Jaskier’s neck. A delicious chill ran up his spine.</p><p>“Julian Alfred Pankratz. Jaskier. Julianna. I am sick of letting other shit get in the way. I want to choose you. Do you want me to choose you?”</p><p>“I want nothing more.” The words tumbled out of him...words he had always wanted to say. Words he’d held back. “I’ve always wanted this. Wanted you. I’ve never been more certain of anything. I know it in my soul.”</p><p>Eskel smiled. He thumbed his jaw and searched his eyes. “I don’t just choose you Jaskier. I love you. You know that don’t you?”</p><p>“You—-“ Jaskier’s eyes began to well up but he blinked furiously.</p><p>No one had ever said they loved him before. Not like that. Not with each word sating him like a hearty stew after a long hunger.</p><p>Sure, a few fleeting romantic conquests had probably said it. But they’d said it lightly. Seductive. Teasing.</p><p>Never solid. Never unwaveringly and true. Not like this. Eskel’s “I love you” was sturdy, like him. Stalwart. You could jump up and down on it and it wouldn’t waver. You could build a palace on it and it wouldn’t crack.</p><p>Eskel chuckled at his look of awe. Perhaps he mistook it for shock. “You didn’t know? I’m a love struck fool.”</p><p>Jaskier knew then that he had to tell him. No matter what else may come, Eskel had to know. The witcher had suffered, being abandoned at the choosing ceremony. He must know how Jaskier felt.</p><p>“That makes two of us. Eskel, I love you too.”</p><p>Eskel’s face shaped into relief. Into joy. Jaskier surged forward, catching Eskel’s full lips, and sighing as he did. Eskel wrapped his arms around him and kissed him back.</p><p>There was something better about kissing a man as yourself. No illusions. No tricks. No doubts. Just a witcher kissing a stableboy like he was the most precious thing in the world. A stableboy kissing a witcher like it was his last night on earth.</p><p>Jaskier had thought their chemistry on the dance floor had been electric. It was nothing compared to this. Something real is always better than something false, no matter the amount of glamor in the fakery.</p><p>They kissed, standing there next to the glowing enchanted gondola, underneath the stars, languorous and loving. Eskel ran his fingers through Jaskier’s hair and Jaskier slid his hands across the muscular planes of Eskel’s back.</p><p>And as they kissed, everything changed. They were no longer two men who pined for each other. They were two men who loved each other and who returned each other’s love. Their bodies grew warm and they began to breathe faster and cling tighter. Their hand roamed to more daring places.</p><p>But before they could topple over the edge, Eskel pulled apart their kissing. He nuzzled Jaskier and whispered in his ear.</p><p>“Let’s go back inside before it ends. Let me choose you, Jaskier”</p><p>Jaskier felt as though someone had given him a treasure. But he knew what could happen if he stepped back into that place. He didn’t want Eskel to suffer at his expense.</p><p>Jaskier whispered back. “If we go back in there, I don’t know what Stregobor is going to do. I don’t know if Vesemir will think I’m a spy or a liar. We could go somewhere alone. We could be together without the public choosing, right? You don’t have to do this for me. I just want to be with you.”</p><p>“Jaskier.” Eskel released him again and pointed to the keep. He waited for Jaskier to fix his tunic and follow his gesture. “That is my home.” There was a heavy meaning and determination in his voice. He waited for the point to sink in. Then he spoke the rest of it slowly, enunciating each word. “It used to be more like a prison. But it isn’t anymore. We’ve reshaped it. We’ve shed blood for it. It belongs to us now. And it’s <em>my home</em>, do you understand?”</p><p>“I understand,” said Jaskier. Eskel’s strength percolated through him. It gave him a new determination.</p><p>“I am a witcher of Kaer Morhen.” Eskel continued, undaunted. “And that is <em>my</em> choosing ceremony. So I am going to be in it. I am going to choose the man I love. Stregobor doesn’t have a say in who I choose. Vesemir doesn’t even have a say in who I choose. Yes, I try to be responsible. I try to do what is asked of me. But when I looked for you tonight. The minute I thought you were gone. Jaskier. I. I knew I couldn’t live with myself. Not if I denied myself this. Not if I’d let you go. I’ve already decided. Do you want to stand with me tonight or not?”</p><p>This was the most Jaskier had ever heard him say all at once. At least since the night they stargazed.</p><p>“I do. I will. I won’t let anything come between us if you won’t.”</p><p>“I won’t.”</p><p>Eskel leaned in against to kiss him. He kissed his lips then his forehead. Then he took his hand.</p><p>“Let’s go back inside, then. Let me show the rest of them who you are to me, Julek.”</p><p>Life had tried to teach Jaskier to temper his enthusiasm. To hide his feelings. To stifle the joy of a gift by anticipating its loss. And even though Eskel had been expressing his love for him that entire conversation, Jaskier had been desperately trying to hold back hope that he could have a life with him. He had been reminding himself not to get comfortable. That finally broke the dam.</p><p>Eskel loved him. He had learned all of his secrets and still wanted him. Eskel would stand with him.</p><p>Not only was that the embodiment of his dream, it was the first time he felt as though he wasn’t alone in a very long time.</p><p>He had Essi, and Essi loved him. But it was his job to take care of her. He had stepped in as sort of a supplemental parent to the child. It was its own kind of relationship and he loved it. But he had no one who was like a partner. No one who he could lean on. Who could care for him in the same way. He hadn't had that for almost half his life.</p><p>It made a difference.</p><p>Eskels passionate resolve. His belief that he belonged and that his home and his rituals were worth fighting for. It instantly bled into Jaskier, stiffening his spine.</p><p>Jaskier couldn’t become a powerful mage. He couldn’t suddenly match Stregobor’s power under the law. But his stepfather had grown in power by alienating Jaskier from the rest of the world. By picking him off from the herd of humanity.</p><p>His mother had always kept him at home. But that had always felt like protection. By contrast, Stregobor had sent him to Kaer Morhen. But he had found other ways to emotionally destroy his connections with others.</p><p>But with Eskel’s hand in his, he thought that maybe he wasn’t as alone as he thought. And he began to imagine what was possible.</p><p>“I would love that.” He tipped forward and kissed Eskel once more. He lingered on his lips, inhaling the scent and warmth of him.</p><p>Then he took him by the hand and turned back towards Kaer Morhen.</p><p>“We have a masquerade to attend,” he said. “Let’s go make an entrance.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Extra special thanks to Isa again because I fully rewrote this chapter three times, so thank you for repeatedly reading it.</p><p>Welllll what did we think? Meet you in the comments. ♥️♥️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Just Like the Stars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jaskier and Eskel slip back into the masquerade for Eskel to choose Jaskier. There is an interruption.</p><p>----</p><p>“Welcome our last witcher of the evening. Eskel of the Blue Mountains.” Yen’s voice rang out from somewhere above. He heard scattered squealing. One woman very near him whispered loudly. </p><p>“I don’t know why they're excited. He’s obviously going to choose the girl he kissed.”</p><p>Jaskier smiled to himself and watched the empty space on stage.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome back, loves! I'm sorry for the delay. I changed the whole ending so I rewrote everything here. I will probably be adding a chapter as well. So if you see the number tick up one, no you didn't.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aiden crowded Lambert against the stony wall of the keep. He hadn’t decided yet whether he’d ever let him leave. They kissed lazily as though they had all the time in the world, fingers roaming and pulling.</p><p>“You gonna let my brother up for air any time soon?” asked Eskel a note of amusement in his voice. “I’d like a word.”</p><p>Aiden whirled around and a bright smile leapt onto his face. “Hey Eskel. Hey Jask.”</p><p>Eskel and Jaskier were breathing deep and labored. They had just run all the way from Draakul. Jaskier waved hello with one hand and held tight to Eskel with the other. This was the first time someone would see them holding hands. Neither Aiden nor Lambert seemed surprised. Jaskier was beginning to suspect that both he and Eskel had been more obvious about their feelings than they had known.</p><p>Lambert jutted up his chin in a nod. His disheveled appearance and pink lips worked at cross purposes with his attempt to look collected and casual.</p><p>“We miss the ceremony?” asked Eskel.</p><p>“No. They’re down to Letho. Yen sent me out here to hurry you up. She’s gonna kill you if you don’t get in there.”</p><p>“And making out with Aiden was going to hurry me up how exactly?” Eskel asked, chuckling with a raised eyebrow.</p><p>“You’re here aren’t you?” said Aiden with a laugh. “It’s our natural magnetism.”</p><p>Lambert reached for Aiden and tucked one of his curls away behind an ear. The casual, confident intimacy was grounding. Jaskier hoped he and Eskel would have that some day, after all of the cards had been laid on the table and chips had fallen where they would. Lambert glanced at Jaskier. “And you found our stableboy. Taking care of his wounds then?”</p><p>Eskel growled softly. He pulled Jaskier around to look at him. “Your what?” His eyes darted to his limbs, assessing him.</p><p>They did not have time for this.</p><p>“Just banged up is all. Never mouth off to a mage.”</p><p>Lambert’s eyebrows raised. “A mage? A mage did all that to you? Fucker.” He looked at Eskel. “He wouldn’t tell me anything.”</p><p>Eskel scowled. “What happened?” he demanded. He ran his hands up Jaskier’s arms and across his back as though searching him. “And which mage? Don’t tell me your stepfather...”</p><p>“I feel better. I think when Yen gave me the illusion, she healed them up a bit.”</p><p>“Good to hear,” said Aiden. He nudged Lambert. “This one was worried about you, Jaskier.”</p><p>“No I wasn’t,” grumbled Lambert. Then he asked Jaskier, “you got an illusion?”</p><p>"Not anymore. She needed her magic for the ceremony."</p><p>Eskel was still staring at Jaskier intensely with an eyebrow cocked like a question waiting for an answer.</p><p>“Eskel, we’re going to miss the ceremony. I’ll catch all of you up later on everything. I promise.”</p><p>Eskel took a deep breath. “Fine. Later.”</p><p>Jaskier smiled and clasped his hands. “Good.”</p><p>If the choosing ceremony was down to Letho, it really was almost too late. He was the last name on the list. They had to hurry. Now that Jaskier had found the courage to do this, he was bloody well doing it. He may not be in a gown. But he was Eskel’s chosen, and that was all that mattered.</p><p>******</p><p>The ballroom looked different than when they left it. For one, it was almost pitch black. Despite the softly twinkling ceiling, it was still darker than outside the castle. Jaskier ducked in behind Eskel but then stood stock still, waiting for his eyes to adjust.</p><p>The only light, other than the soft glimmer of the tiny stars was the pinpoint of a spotlight on the stage. The band was long gone. In the center of the spotlight stood Letho of Gulet. He was bald and his arms were like tree trunks. Clutching one of them was a dark haired, dark eyed woman with a mischievous smile. She clung to him proudly. A misty, illusionary viper curled around their shoulders, scales shimmering green and blue.</p><p>Eskel turned to Jaskier and caught his chin. He leaned in and whispered, breath hot on his neck. “You stay here. I’ll see you on stage.”</p><p>Jaskier grabbed his arm urgently to stop him from disappearing. “Wait. How does this work again?” Jaskier had heard stories, but it did change year to year.</p><p>Eskel covered his hand with one of his. “You’ll see. It’s gonna be perfect.”</p><p>Eskel slipped away and Jaskier shoved his hands into his pockets. He found the wall farthest from the stage and stood with his back against it. He felt the vaguest sense of defensiveness behind his gleeful anticipation. He didn’t want to be seen by Stregobor before Eskel had a chance to call him up.</p><p>The guests applauded to mark the successful choosing by Letho of Gulet. A soft light went up onstage so that Letho and his chosen could find and join a line of witchers and partners standing along the back of the stage. Vesemir stood at the end of the line, presumably to officially welcome the chosen partners.</p><p>Looking at all the witchers together filled Jaskier’s heart. They were expanding their families and taking control of their destinies, and he got to be a part of it. Even though Eskel said he didn’t strictly need Vesemir’s approval, Jaskier certainly hoped they would be able to earn it. Surely there were things he could do to prove his loyalty. Surely there were ways they could help the witchers expand and strengthen their community and culture without bearing children.</p><p>Jaskier swallowed with some effort because  his throat was dry. His fingers fidgeted inside his pockets. His feet tapped nervously. He reminded himself that his being so underdressed didn’t matter.</p><p>The lights extinguished again and the crowd grew silent as if on cue. Then the large spotlight flickered back on. It shone on the empty spot at the front of the stage. It was a promise waiting to be fulfilled.</p><p>“Welcome our last witcher of the evening. Eskel of the Blue Mountains.” Yen’s voice rang out from somewhere above. He heard scattered squealing. One woman very near him whispered loudly.</p><p>“I don’t know why they're excited. He’s obviously going to choose the girl he kissed.”</p><p>Jaskier smiled to himself and watched the empty space on stage.</p><p>Eskel stepped into the spotlight, and Jaskier sucked in a breath. It was different seeing him onstage. Eskel, the witcher of Kaer Morhen. His Eskel. He stood, alone in the glow, hands clasped at his front, his eyes sparkling. Jaskier could tell he was nervous, but it was different from his earlier state. Before, Eskel had seemed nervous because he wanted to be elsewhere. His eyes had darted around and his words had been slightly clipped. Now his tensed neck and clasped hands seemed like barely restrained excitement.</p><p>Jaskier’s heart thudded in his ears. He watched Eskel close his eyes in thought. The moment of silence and the accompanying suspense practically rang out, if it was possible for silence to do such a thing. It dawned on Jaskier. Eskel was thinking of him.</p><p>When Eskel opened his eyes, a large wolf flickered into being next to him. Jaskier gasped along with the rest of the guests. They must have seen all of the other animals flicker into being as each of the witchers had chosen their partners. But the wolf was still a wonder. It still provoked gasps. It was white and so tall that it reached Eskel’s waist. Its paws were massive and its violet eyes were keen and intelligent.</p><p>Eskel slowly knelt beside the animal and whispered something to it. Its ears flicked. The animal padded away from Eskel and down the steps of the stage, shoulder blades shifting and muscles flexing under its fur. The spotlight split, and one half of it followed the wolf as it gracefully prowled through the crowd. The other half stayed with Eskel as he watched the wolf in anticipation.</p><p>Guests parted before the wolf in silence, not daring to disrupt its path. It was like a boulder in a creek, slicing water in two. It was hunting Jaskier. Jaskier had the sudden, silly impulse to wave and shout. But he didn’t. He waited.</p><p>The wolf walked down the path, dignified and focused. Jaskier saw a few brave fingers of guests dart into the spotlight to try to touch the animal, then whisper in delight.</p><p>Jaskier watched it approach, snuffling and looking around, searching. Its finally turned towards him and, for a moment, Jaskier locked eyes with the wolf. He didn’t feel like prey exactly. But he knew deep within him that he had been seen by something real. He didn’t know how that was possible. This had to be an illusion. But the wisdom in its eyes gripped him. The wolf walked straight up to him and stopped. A hush fell over the crowd. The wolf bent forward, lowered its head, and nuzzled his hand.</p><p>Jaskier felt real fur. It swept across his fingers, fluffy but rough. The guests gasped and whispered. A frisson of opinions and questions rustled through the ballroom.</p><p>Some of the guests immediately assumed that the wolf had made a mistake. The young man it stood before was dressed like a worker. He probably trimmed the trees or fed the horses. Even if he hadn’t been in work clothes, they understood this instinctively when they saw his unrestrained eagerness. The look of awe on the young man’s face contrasted sharply with the forced nonchalance that most guests would assume in such a situation. He was not a cynical nobleman. He was not used to being a guest at such an event.</p><p>Other guests whispered to their handlers, hadn’t Eskel kissed a fine lady? Where was she? What did she look like again?</p><p>Jaskier knelt. He wrapped his arms around the wolf, and impulsively buried his face in its neck. The wolf nuzzled into him. It was warm and furry and smelled like earth and snow. Its hot breath puffed on him. It was ironic that the warmth of the illusion was what anchored him in that moment, in a ballroom of very real, but very unreal people.</p><p>He knew this was an honor. If this wolf had found him in the forest and there was no one else around to witness it, Jaskier would still understand this was an honor.</p><p>Jaskier stood slowly, so he could keep his hand buried in the thick fur on the wolf’s back. They walked together up the path pulled in front of them by the spotlight. He felt like a king, walking towards the stage, touching this wolf...being chosen by his wolf. He felt hundreds of eyes following them, and gods help him, he preened. He lifted his chin and he pushed out his chest. He looked up and caught Eskel’s eye and he imagined if they were married, it might be something like this...Eskel standing proudly and watching him approach.</p><p>Jaskier climbed the stage and the spotlight merged again. Eskel held out his arm and he gratefully clasped it. Eskel tugged him forward just like in the dance, and he fell into him, kissing him. The guests laughed and applauded.</p><p>Certainly not all of them were thrilled about the choice. But when one is at a matchmaking ball, and a match is made, one cannot help but feel celebratory. Jaskier turned to face the crowd. They stood side by side. The wolf settled before them at their feet.</p><p>Yen’s voice rang out.</p><p>“Eskel chooses Jaskier.”</p><p>The crowd applauded thunderously.</p><p>As they clapped, Eskel dipped to whisper in Jaskier’s ear. “Look up.”</p><p>Jaskier looked up towards the ceiling. The firmament, Vesemir had called it.</p><p>“If you lay in the center of the ballroom,” Eskel said, “the positions of the stars would be the same as the night we laid on the grass together.”</p><p>He looked into Jaskier’s upturned face, and saw the stars reflected in his wide eyes, and the spirit of them reflected in his joyous smile.</p><p>“Really?? You did that? For me?” Jaskier was legitimately worried now that he would burst from pride.</p><p>“Really.”</p><p>Eskel hadn’t known that Jaskier loved him when he chose the theme. He hadn’t even known whether the stableboy would attend the masquerade. He had expected that he would choose someone from one of the magical noble families.</p><p>But his mind had been so preoccupied with the young stableboy that he had undertaken the lovelorn act of recreating their night together. Yen had understood. She had smirked softly at his explanation, which conveniently didn’t include the fact that he loved Jaskier, but it was obvious nonetheless. Then she had raised her hands and scattered the stars in the sky for him.</p><p>Jaskier impulsively threw his arms around Eskel’s neck. “Thank you my love.”</p><p>Scattered sighs rose around the ballroom. On the way home, aunties would complain about <em>why they had this masquerade if they were just going to marry the stableboys</em>. But the love was so apparent between Jaskier and Eskel that they won most of the crowd over. The angry aunties would by and large be seen as poor losers. The other witchers did choose ladies after all, and perhaps their charge just hadn’t been charming enough.</p><p>But they had no time to bask in it. At that moment, everything in the ballroom changed all at once.</p><p>Suddenly every bit of magic was extinguished. It was like a giant sucking sensation that pulled it all away like a liquid down a funnel. The stars against the ceiling twinkled then vanished. Every light went up. People yelped as they were suddenly exposed to the brightness. They straightened their bodices and wiped their eyes and looked around in shock.</p><p>Vesemir stepped forward and looked around accusingly, hand on his sword. He was the only witcher allowed to wear a sword at the event. He looked as authoritative as the master of a castle whose masquerade has been interrupted. Yennefer stood on a small balcony above the stage. Her arms were raised mid-spell and she looked none too happy.</p><p>Jaskier saw the shock and anger on their faces and, realizing this was not a planned part of the event. His stomach dropped. He knew what this was. He just knew it. Eskel wrapped an arm around his waist and yanked him closer. Eskel was thinking the same thing.</p><p>Sure enough, Stregobor walked towards them, down the path just formed by the wolf, who had also vanished when the magic left. The mage’s robe trailed behind him, taking up as much space as it needed. Essi also trailed behind him. She caught Jaskier’s eyes and mouthed ‘What is going on?”</p><p>Jaskier didn’t even know how to respond. He tried to look reassuring. But he didn’t feel reassured himself. His body was churning in dread.</p><p>Before anyone could protest the interruption, Stregobor climbed the stage as though it had been built just for him, for this very moment. Vesemir stepped forward and blocked his way.</p><p>“What are you doing, Stregobor? How dare you interfere! This is a witcher event. This is my keep.”</p><p>“Vesemir,” Stregobor held his arms out in a plea. “I’m here to assist as your humble servant.” His humility rang false, given the bombast of his actions. “I fear you have been duped by one of the people here on stage. This boy is my charge.” He pointed at Jaskier.</p><p>“He’s a grown man,” said Eskel, stepping towards the mage, shielding Jaskier. “And you harmed him.” Jaskier hadn’t admitted that it was Stregobor who had injured him, and Eskel hadn’t even seen his injuries. But apparently the small bit of information Lambert had given him made him confident enough in his guess to be angry at the mage. He pointed at Stregobor and his voice dropped low and menacing. “He is no longer your anything. Get out of my sight or I’ll throttle you myself.” His voice was quiet and acidic. The hairs on the back of Jaskier’s neck stood up. Vesemir’s eyes widened and he looked at Eskel in surprise, though he didn’t rebuke him.</p><p>Jaskier had never heard Eskel make a threat like that. There was a feral witcher waiting to be released, that much was clear. A part of him wanted to urge him on. But no, Eskel shouldn’t fight his battles. He could do this. He twitched to move forward, but Eskel motioned him to stay put.</p><p>“Eskel,” said Stregobor softly in a conciliatory tone, “Vesemir.” The mage looked between the two men. “Jaskier has been lying to you both.” </p><p>“Stregobor,” barked Vesemir, waving at Eskel to stand down. “This isn’t a wedding. It’s just the choosing ceremony. If you have any objection to the match you’re welcome to inform me later. The melodrama is unnecessary. And the rudeness is unacceptable.”</p><p>Stregobor turned towards the crowd. “Surely you all want to know my objection. After all, Vesemir invited you all here to match with a witcher. And instead of matching with one of your daughters he’s matching with a stableboy. A waste of your time if you--”</p><p>Vesemir interrupted him again. “This is a matchmaking event, not a forced breeding program. My boys have the final choice over who they make a life with.”</p><p>Stregobor ignored him, instead lifting his voice to the crowd while addressing the witchers at his back. “He has been lying about who he is. His name is not Jaskier.”</p><p>The crowd began to murmur. Jaskier went cold.</p><p>“His name is Julian Alfred Pankratz. His late mother plotted the attacks against Kaer Morhen. He has hidden at Kaer Morhen as a stableboy, intent on carrying on her work. I am only interrupting this event to expose his duplicity. I must do this. Because once everyone goes home, it will be too late for Eskel to choose a suitable, well born girl.”</p><p>He waved to Essi who looked horrified. “He may choose anyone here, but my Essi is virtuous, talented, and well born.”</p><p>“No!” she shouted.</p><p>“She is a child,” said Eskel angrily.</p><p>Jaskier held out his arms for Essi to come to him but Stregobor threw his arm out in time and stopped her. She bumped into him and scowled.</p><p>He pointed again at Jaskier and turned to the crowd. “He was trained to be a spy. To carry on his mother’s work. I should know. When I found out her evil plan I exposed her. A fact that you can corroborate, Vesemir.”</p><p>Vesemir looked stunned. His mouth hung open. He didn’t say a word.</p><p>Jaskier’s chest grew tight and his limbs tingled. He thought he’d pass out from the panic. He had never seen Vesemir lose his composure like this. He always had the answer. He always knew what to do. Seeing him frozen in such a state of horror and shock set Jaskier off balance. He gathered himself and stepped forward.</p><p>But before he could say a word, Yennefer descended from the balcony in a gust of wind. She landed between Stregobor and Jaskier with a thud. Her curls bounced and her fingers were raised in the air, nimble, and ready for a fight.</p><p>“It’s time, Stregobor. Time to answer for yourself.” The ferocity in her voice could have shaken the rafters.</p><p>Eskel pulled Jaskier back to stand with him to allow the mages their confrontation. It was always wise to get out of the way of mages when they looked ready to fight.</p><p>Some of the guests clearly understood this wisdom. The people closest to the stage scuttled back, allowing the mages more space. The other witchers that were lined up on the stage, hustled their chosen ladies off to safety. Vesemir had clearly lost control of the proceedings and anything could happen.</p><p>No one fled the ballroom though. One perk of attending a much discussed event like the masquerade, was being there in person to see the events that people would be gossiping about for years to come. People watched intently, memorizing how they would describe it at salons and parties.</p><p>
  <em>Did you invite Helen? She was there when the mages battled over the choosing ceremony.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What was it like, Helen?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Well, Stregobor wore one of his dramatic capes and--</em>
</p><p>Stregobor sneered at Yennefer. “What does the decorations committee have to do with this? You may proceed with your important work after the choosing is done.”</p><p>Yennefer bristled. Her voice sounded like an icicle. “I will not allow you to besmirch the name of my mistress in a public forum. Never. I would die first.”</p><p>She turned first to Jaskier and pointed at him. She lifted her voice so that it filled the hall. “His mother is Tissaia de Vries, the late, legendary rectoress of Aretuza, and my dearest friend.”</p><p>Despite the circumstances, Jaskier was proud to hear the words. His feelings about his mother were a tangled knot of conflicting emotions. But he always felt proud. No one could ever make him feel otherwise.</p><p>Jaskier nodded slowly, as though anyone were waiting for his confirmation. However, he couldn’t have spoken if he tried. He was at a loss. He struggled to connect all the dots that were whirling around him. He had assumed that everyone had abandoned the memory of his mother when she had been accused. But here was Yennefer, the most powerful remaining sorceress, defending her. Ready to fight for her.</p><p>That had to mean something.</p><p>For the first time he truly believed that his mother could be completely innocent. He had hoped before, but Yennefer was giving him real faith.</p><p>She whipped to face Vesemir, who merely blinked. She pressed on nonetheless with heat and power in her voice. “There has never been any real proof that our rectoress ever did such an evil thing. I will not allow him to say these things in public and not answer for them.”</p><p>“There was proof! I provided it!” Stregobor insisted.</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes darted back to the mage. He wanted to hear this more than anyone. He was entranced.</p><p>“No,” hissed Yen. “Your word does not equal evidence. Nor do easily falsified letters. You had access to her parchment. Her stamp. Her magic.”</p><p>The guests all gaped and looked at the quarreling mages in turn as though they were jousting knights.</p><p>“You saw it Vesemir! The evidence!” Stregobor said haughtily.</p><p>Vesemir looked directly at Jaskier, and the raw, practically unhinged emotion in his eyes almost made Jaskier take a step back. “He? Was Tissaia’s son?” The words trickled out of the old witcher, breathy and shaking.</p><p>“That’s what I’ve said!” protested Stregobor.</p><p>Jaskier instinctively touched his necklace, as it seemed to help ground him. The movement caught Yennefer’s eye. She whirled on Strebogor.</p><p>“Why did you let Jaskier leave the house with the necklace,” she challenged, pointing at Jaskier.</p><p>Stregobor fell silent and seemed legitimately perplexed. “What necklace?”</p><p>Yennefer’s mouth curled into a satisfied grin. “You can’t see it, I <em>knew</em> it,” she cackled. It was the cackle of a witch from stories and if Jaskier hadn’t been so off center, he might have smiled at it. But his thoughts raced. Why couldn’t Stregobor see his necklace? Why had it seemed to keep appearing and reappearing? </p><p>“Take off your necklace Jaskier. Hold it up,” commanded Yennefer.</p><p>Jaskier removed the necklace and held it up. He marveled at the look of horror that overtook Stregobor’s face. The mage stumbled backwards in shock. He reached for Essi to steady himself but she deftly stepped aside. He almost fell off the stage.</p><p>“How did you?? I warded? That room?” He slowly turned to look down at Essi. “You little fool.” His voice was bitter. Jaskier instinctively stepped forward. Stregobor had never struck her but he still didn’t like her anywhere near him when he was angry. The mage grew smug. “You’ll stop encouraging him soon enough. I've cast him from my home as I should have years ago. He won’t be under my roof any longer, left unchecked, influencing you to immorality and frivolity. And you’ll learn to be loyal to your true family.”</p><p>“You--” Essi’s eyes widened in surprise. But then her face snapped closed so tight that it took Jaskier aback. Her big blue eyes were hard as sapphires. This was an Essi that Jaskier had never seen. Yes, he had seen her anger. He had seen her tears. But she had always looked at her father with hope. It seemed there was none of that left to be found.</p><p>Stregobor lifted his hands towards the necklace as though to cast a spell. But it was too late. His words to Essi had given Yennefer an opening. She had already sent a ray of powerful magic that hit the prisms of the necklace. </p><p>“Unlock your secrets,” she shouted.</p><p>Her magic bounced back out like a hundred spotlights, whirling in every direction. Stregobor and Essi both covered their eyes against the small explosion.</p><p>Jaskier almost dropped the necklace from the shock. But he felt Eskel’s hand close around his. They held the necklace steady together.</p><p>At first the beams of light were like a hundred shooting stars. They stretched as far as the ceiling. They shot as far as the farthest wall. The guests covered their eyes at first, but then slowly dropped them to gape and stare. Then, before all of their eyes, the beams of light retracted back onto the stage. They began to form into a shape and glow green like a still pond, then multicolored, like a rainbow.</p><p>It was a projection, like the messages that mages send each other when they need the message to be secret. Jaskier remembered that his mother used to receive these from time to time. He remembered watching them quietly as he sat with his blocks on the rug in her office. He had been too little to fully grasp the messages. But the projection was usually a glowing lady in robes talking about important matters. His mother had always watched the messages with deep interest, hands clasped at her waist.</p><p>Now it was his turn to watch with interest.</p><p>He squinted as the shape took form. It trembled and glimmered and the points of light joined and clustered until it contained the full color palette of reality. It formed and retracted until the shapes and planes resembled a human being.</p><p>Standing before hundreds of guests, all of the witchers of Kaer Morhen, and all of the sorceresses of The Lodge, stood the petite form of a woman with burnt umber hair and large eyes upturned at the edges. Her hands were clasped at her waist.</p><p>Jaskier’s knees gave out.</p><p>His hand slipped away as he fell, leaving the necklace in Eskel’s hands. Eskel leapt forward and managed to ease his movement from a plummet to a graceful lowering.</p><p>Jaskier settled on his knees before the projection. He looked up at her like he did when he was a tiny child, like he was worshipping the moon. He gave no thought to the guests, or the mages, or the witchers looking upon him. He gathered his hands on his knees and said one reverent word.</p><p>“Mom.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for continuing to follow the story, my lovelies! I have missed you! I do have the next chapter mostly written but pulling all these strings together and not dropping any is quite a trick. So I'll be working on it still tomorrow. Hopefully very very soon. (fingers crossed)</p><p>Let me know what you think in the comments!</p><p>So, I am using the character of Tissaia de Vries. But, in the grand tradition of fic writers, I have interpreted her as I wish. A note about that is below. So, if you are interested in a deep-ish dive about Tissaia de Vries (with a tw: for eugenics) read on:</p><p>==========</p><p>So, I read the books. And Tissaia is not abusive in the books. She doesn't turn them into eels or call them piggies. She is strict and proud and respectable. You could even all her severe. But she isn't cruel. She's proud of her girls. And several times in the book they say that she cares about her school above all. And they call her "the great" Tissaia de Vries. They have passionate differences, but the respect is really there. She is a legend.</p><p>To me, they changed Tissaia's character on the show to the point where it could be two different characters. They did a beautiful job of developing her and her relationship with Yen, but it started out in a way I could have not imagined, given her character in the book. That's one person's opinion anyway.</p><p>Now, not that Tissaia is a moral character in every way in the books either. Even though mages and sorceresses typically cannot have children because magic naturally degrades the ability of their bodies to reproduce (there is no dramatic surgery like in the show), she still is against them reproducing because she believes it is a curse to the children and they can't be born healthy. It doesn't take much to compare that to eugenics, so some readers of the books believe her to be a eugenicist.</p><p>So basically what I have done is take the personality as I read her in the books, but I do not make her a eugenicist.</p><p>So like we often do in fic, I have ruthlessly cherrypicked. I love this kind of character, but I made her my  own.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Ruby Dreams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tissaia speaks.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome back, loves. (notice I added a chapter)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tissaia de Vries was gossamer. Her shape pulled at her bodice and smoothed back her hair, undulating on beams of light that had yet to completely sharpen.</p><p>Jaskier gazed up at her. There was panic laced with his reverence. He couldn’t even recall her face sometimes. What if he forgot her again after this message ended? What if this was his only chance? Perversely, the panic calmed him. It told him to focus. To memorize her.</p><p>He was so intent that he mouthed the words:</p><p>
  <em>Blue, with green flecks.</em>
</p><p>He didn’t <em>have</em> to memorize her eyes. He only had to look in a mirror and he would see the exact color. But that’s what his mind ordered him to do in that extraordinary moment.</p><p><em>Remember</em>.</p><p>Jaskier was so transfixed that he didn’t even notice the necklace tear hot from Eskel’s hand and fly through the air above him to smack into Stregobor’s open, waiting palm. He didn’t even hear the loud tearing sound to his left. Some part of him heard, of course. But he refused to pry his eyes away from his mother.</p><p>If he had looked, he would have seen Stregobor sweep one arm in a loop. He would have seen flames cut through the air like a ragged saw and wedge a portal between the mage and the rest of them. If he had been listening, he would have heard the guests, now more properly thought of as an audience watching the drama of his existence play out in spectacular fashion, gasp and shout.</p><p>A flutter of breeze from the portal lifted his fringe away from his forehead with a puff. He didn’t notice that either. It wasn’t important.</p><p>His mother was important. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.</p><p>Even if he had, he wouldn’t have been able to stop Stregobor in time. This moment, crawling and stretching out for him, was merely a fraction of a second for everyone else...everyone not locked in awe, staring at a message from their long lost mother.</p><p>In fact neither Eskel, Yennefer, nor Vesemir could move in time to stop the mage, especially given the fact that they would have had to jump off the stage to dash around the portal. Yennefer’s magic couldn’t shoot through the portal to reach Stregobor. That’s not how rips in dimensions worked.</p><p>Not even Geralt was close enough. When Yennefer had dropped down onto the platform in front of Stregobor, Geralt had dashed to the weapons closet. He had retrieved his sword, along with as many others as he could manage. He had almost made it back to the stage. But he wasn’t close enough either.</p><p>Stregobor closed his fingers over the jewels of the necklace, covering them. The projection of Tissaia de Vries flickered and froze. When Jaskier realized it, when he had stared long enough to understand she hadn’t just paused, he launched himself up to his feet with a strangled, aggrieved shout.</p><p>But he was too late.</p><p>Stregobor already had a foot up to straddle the opening of the portal.</p><p>“Come on,” Stregobor barked at Essi. He bounced slightly to gather force and he leapt towards the portal.</p><p>No one was close enough to stop him.</p><p>So it was as much of a surprise to him as anyone else when the necklace pulled itself from his hand as if outraged, and leapt through the air again. This time it wrapped around his throat, the metal links lashing the bare exposed skin of his neck.</p><p>It turned out, his daughter wasn’t no one. She wasn’t nearly as insignificant as he had imagined.</p><p>Crystallized rage glinted in Essi’s eyes. Her knuckles clenched white. The crowd grew silent before her righteous fury.</p><p>Stregobor fumbled for his neck. His eyes bugged in shock and confusion. Essi pulled her fists slowly back towards herself and the chain squeezed <em>tighter</em>.</p><p>She stepped closer to him. “You tried to take my choice,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “You <em>took</em> my free will.” Her voice faltered. The horror she must have felt when she was helpless under the charm flitted across her eyes. She steeled herself again and each subsequent word tore from her like an escapee from a prison. “But you will never. <em>Ever.</em> Take my brother from me.”</p><p>Her father no longer looked confused. He was no longer capable of feelings that implied a higher thought process at all. Now he looked like an animal with its leg caught in a trap, staring down at a small hunter with a deadly weapon. He grasped at his throat in jerky desperate motions lacking any composure. He squeaked, then gurgled. Then he gaped in silence.</p><p>Essi was terrifying. And spectacular. She had crossed a threshold. She had reached the point at which she was no longer willing to just accept life, the way a child does. She was ready to make her own choices.</p><p>Stregobor’s body slumped and he stumbled.</p><p>Yennefer was there now. As the mage fell, she flipped him onto his stomach. She looked up just as Geralt tossed her a set of dimeritium cuffs.</p><p>She yanked his wrists together and clicked the cuffs on them. Triss, who had made her way towards the stage along with several other sorceresses that Jaskier had seen in the library, closed the portal with a satisfying zip. And then it was quiet again, apart from Essi’s labored breathing and the anger in her eyes glowing like hot coals.</p><p>The guests were murmuring yet again. They had gradually stepped backwards to the point where the entire front half of the ballroom was empty. Some however, had grown comfortable that the conflict would stay safely on the stage, and were raiding the champagne table again to sustain them through the rest of the drama before them. They were being made privy to personal secrets of powerful people, and you couldn’t beat that for entertainment.</p><p>Smoke lingered in the air in front of Jaskier and Eskel. Portals didn’t smell like woodsmoke. They smelled like smoke combined with some acidic decoction and, for some reason, freesias. Jaskier coughed and waved a hand in front of his face to clear it. The necklace released Stregobor and clattered to the floor. Essi’s face unclenched and she dashed to wrap her arms around Jaskier.</p><p>“Fuck,” he said. “Bloody hell.” He gathered her into his arms.</p><p>Eskel took several long steps and bent down to swipe the necklace up quickly from the ground, as though it would disintegrate if he didn’t. “I’m so sorry,” he muttered. “I was holding it tight—“</p><p>Jaskier held out his arm and grasped him by the wrist. He looked at Eskel imploringly. “It’s not your fault, my darling.” Then he yanked Eskel into the hug with him and Essi.</p><p>Vesemir walked up to Stregobor and nudged his prone body with his toe. “Is he—-“ And then he stopped. Essi peeked at her father, face held in a careful mask of bravery.</p><p>“No,” said Yennefer. He just fainted. I’m sure he’ll be conscious again in seconds.”</p><p>Essi exhaled. She had been ready to fight back. She hadn’t been ready to commit patricide.</p><p>“Can you shut him up when he does?” asked Vesemir.</p><p>Yennefer nodded. “With pleasure.” She turned to Essi and cocked a brow. “Where did you learn to do that?” There was interest in her voice. She was already picturing the small, fierce girl in her Portals and Dimensions class at Aretuza.</p><p>“Triss, in the library earlier. She taught me some tricks.”</p><p>“I taught you how to <em>float</em> a <em>champagne glass</em>,” goggled Triss.</p><p>Essi shrugged. “Can we see Julian’s message now?”</p><p>Jaskier squeezed her gratefully. He hadn’t thought of anything else since his mother appeared and was relieved that Essi understood.</p><p>Yennefer nodded. “Go ahead Eskel.”</p><p>Stregobor coughed and groaned, but no one paid him any mind. Yennefer waved a finger in his direction and the sound was muffled. Eskel held the necklace aloft again. He looked at Jaskier with encouragement. With love. With the full understanding of the importance of this moment.</p><p>The projection of Tissaia flickered back to life. Jaskier stood, arm around Essi, watching intently. As the image sharpened, it was clear that Tissaia was standing behind the large mahogany desk in the study.</p><p>“Whoever is watching this,” Tissaia began with her usual authority, hands clasped at her waist, “please get my message to Vesemir.”</p><p>He hadn’t heard her voice in so long, he had to bite back a garbled exclamation that would have been senseless and a half sob anyway. His composure had abandoned him. He also felt a shock at the sound of Vesemir’s name on his mother’s lips.</p><p>Of course his mother knew Vesemir. But Jaskier had so protected (or hidden away, he no longer knew which) the memory of his mother, that she felt like a dusty tome sitting alone on his solitary shelf. His worlds were colliding, and it was dizzying.</p><p>“I left you a letter where we used to meet,” she continued, “detailing the plot against your people. You’ve found it by now.”</p><p>The implications settled over Jaskier. <em>She</em> had helped Kaer Morhen. She and Vesemir had a <em>meeting place. </em>What could that mean?</p><p>“I hid my identity. But he found out anyway. It’s too late. There is only one thing that matters now.” Her voice wavered. The tips of her fingers ground into her palms. “I never wanted to do this, but I am out of options.”</p><p>Jaskier glanced at Vesemir. He blinked when he saw that Vesemir’s face was drawn into grief and his hand was clapped over his open soundless mouth.</p><p>“Vesemir,” she took a deep breath. Her hands slid up to her chest. They were trembling. She blurted the next words out as though she were forcing them out under duress. Which, she was. “Vesemir--we have a son. <em>You</em> have a son. His name is Julian.”</p><p>Every face on the stage turned to look at Jaskier. His mind went blank with a zip. Trying to make sense of her words was like reading a book where every word had just lifted from the page and rearranged into a foreign language. His mother had always told him that his father had passed away before he was born. She had refused to tell him more until he had come of age. He’d given up asking.</p><p>“I have hid him from you for ten years,” she continued, lifting a defiant chin. “From everyone. From the world. I gave him a new last name. Part of me is sorry. But it is a very small part. Mostly I am proud to have protected him thus far. I know what they do to children in Kaer Morhen. I know about the trials.”</p><p>She spat out the words: <em>the trials</em>. She stroked her skirts in sharp movements to straighten them, though they already looked neat. Now that the shocking words were out, her great secret revealed, she no longer trembled. Her jaw was set. “It is better that my son was raised <em>without</em> a father, and alive, than <em>with</em> a father and dead on some heinous stone slab in a musty keep.”</p><p>Jaskier looked once more at Vesemir, and shame had washed over the witcher’s face. His eyes watered and the reflection of Tissaia glimmered on them.</p><p>Jaskier faltered and leaned hard against Eskel’s broad chest. Essi and Eskel simultaneously pressed back against him, supporting him and righting him. Essi was stunned into silence. Eskel whispered a near silent “bloody hell.”</p><p>Tissaia smiled. It was a real, warm smile. It was like the sun rising and it swept everything else from her face. Jaskier understood now that he was one of very few people who ever saw her like that. Glowing with love. She was about to talk about him, he could feel it.</p><p>“You should see him, Vesemir. He’s a beautiful boy. Bright. Inquisitive. Charming. <em>Too</em> charming for his own good. He sings. He dances. And he’s not afraid of anything.”</p><p>Eskel squeezed his hand as if adding his agreement to his mother’s words. Jaskier slowly matched the words to himself. Beautiful. Charming. Fearless. He remembered being fearless. He wondered if he could ever be that person again.</p><p>Tissaia’s voice grew dangerous now. “I would do anything for him. Anything. I would have sacrificed anything for him, even love.” She paused and looked down at her hands. “I did sacrifice love.” She looked up again and through some twist of fate, her projection looked right at Vesemir. It raised the hair on the back of Jaskier’s neck. “Do you understand that?”</p><p>His mother had loved <em>Vesemir</em>. His <em>father</em>.</p><p>“I no longer trust Stregobor.” Tissaia laughed bitterly. “So, please. When you get this, take our son. But do not take him to Kaer Morhen. I swear to the gods if you let them experiment on him or harm him I will haunt you for countless eternities. You will never know peace, witcher, do you understand? Never. I will find you in hell if he is harmed, and the devil himself will tremble at the torture I will invent to avenge my child.”</p><p>Jaskier had forgotten what this was like...having someone who would kill to protect you. He had lived now for years under the care of a man who seemed to despise him. But the love of a parent cannot be forgotten completely, only sublimated, and the full memory of it returned to him now--what it felt like to be held precious. To be protected.</p><p>“And Julian? If you see this?”</p><p>Jaskier sucked in a breath. He reflexively stepped forward at her summons, leaving behind the support of Essi and Eskel. He stood in an empty spot on the stage, waiting for his last missive from his mother.</p><p>“Yes?” He answered her even though he knew that she couldn’t hear him. He heard his voice waver.</p><p>“Everything I have done has been for you. I love you, my singing, dancing, darling boy.”</p><p>She slumped then, tired from expressing her ferocity. Jaskier noticed dark circles under her eyes. The love he felt for this exhausted, fierce woman threw off the chains of shame and secrecy.</p><p>“This may be the end. He has the house warded so that I can’t portal out. It is only a matter of time before he gets through my wards on the study door.” She sounded matter of fact, nothing like a trapped animal, which is what she was. As if on cue, banging issued from just out of sight. She glanced away, momentarily losing composure. She cleared her throat and looked back ahead.</p><p>Her glance at the door shot an icicle of fear through Jaskier. He knew how this story ended. His mother was dead, and this is when it had happened. He wanted to protect her, the way she had protected him. He wanted to scream and throw himself on the projection, between her and the door. He ground his teeth unconsciously. Eskel drew closer to clasp his hand again, infusing Jaskier with his strength.</p><p>“I don’t know who will win this match. But I will fight to the end.”</p><p>She flickered. She froze. She disappeared. The message was over abruptly, and the massive ballroom was silent once again, other than scattered whispers. Jaskier stood and stared at the empty spot, arms heavy at his side.</p><p><em>I will fight to the end. </em>His mother’s last words. He replayed them again. <em>I will fight to the end. </em>Stregobor had said that she took her own life.</p><p>It had been a lie.</p><p>A blinding, overwhelming rage bled through Jaskier’s body, the likes of which he had never felt before. It was so potent, it drowned out everything else he was feeling. He was angry at himself for having doubted her. For hiding her. But mostly, he was angry at Stregobor, the man who had claimed to love her, who had married her, and who had turned on her.</p><p><em>He killed her, </em>thought Jaskier. He imagined Stregobor extinguishing the light in his mother’s eyes and his anger blossomed into a seething hatred.</p><p>He remembered that he was a fighter. His mother had said it. He wasn’t afraid of anything. His body thrummed with bloodlust. He whirled around but not towards Stregobor. He looked wildly at Eskel.</p><p>Geralt had handed Eskel back his sword at some point during the message and he had strapped it on his hips. Jaskier’s eyes dropped to it. Before anyone could stop him, he slid the sword from Eskel’s scabbard. Eskel had witcher reflexes. He could have stopped Jaskier but he chose not to. Eskel knew that there are some decisions a man has to make for himself.</p><p>Jaskier was a passable swordsman. But most importantly, he knew where to stick the sharp end. Jaskier leapt for Stregobor, blinded by a brilliant red rage. He angled the sword down where Stregobor lay, eyes wide.</p><p>If he had been thinking clearly, he might have asked them to take off the shackles. There was little honor in killing a defenseless man. But Jaskier wasn’t thinking of honor. He was thinking of revenge. If he had fangs or claws he would have ripped the man apart with relish.</p><p>“You killed her, you piece of shit. You evil—“ he screamed. He lunged toward the prone, shackled form of the mage, swinging the blade. It whipped through the air towards its target.</p><p>Stregobor thrashed in his cuffs and screamed, words rushed and running together. “I didn’t kill her! If you kill me, you’ll never see her again!!”</p><p>Even though Jaskier didn’t consciously comprehend what Stregobor said, his body listened. He heard just in time to pull the blade back before it sliced through his neck.</p><p>The crowd gasped. To them, this was theater. To Jaskier, it was his entire world tipping sideways. He scrambled to stay upright.</p><p>The blade hovered, unsure as the man who wielded it. Essi stepped forward and wordlessly tugged Jaskier’s arm until he lowered it.</p><p>“I’ll never. I’ll never...what?” Jaskier asked, sounding as off balance as he felt. He had simply heard too many shocking things. There was no way his mind could keep up.</p><p>“She’s not dead!” squeaked Stregobor. “She’s alive!”</p><p>“What?” Jaskier said again, almost pitifully. His arm dropped to his side as though it were dead.</p><p>Eskel intervened, leaning over Stregobor. “Where has she been for almost ten years then, mage?” he demanded. “If she is alive, then fucking produce her this moment.”</p><p>Yennefer and several sorceresses also stepped closer, elegant robes swishing. “You showed us her body. That’s impossible.” Yennefer’s eyes were intense. If she were the sun, Stregobor’s skin would have sizzled and burned.</p><p>“It’s more than possible. It’s true.”</p><p>Eskel stepped closer still, looming over the mage. His steel toed boot slid close to Stregobor’s head, sending a chill of fear through the mage. All of the control Stregobor was so used to wielding had dissipated. This scarred witcher that Jaskier loved could bring down a boot and the leader of the Council of Mages would be dead. There was a slight irony in it all. “If you’re giving him false hope I will tear you limb from limb,” Eskel growled. “And I won’t do it quickly.”</p><p>A few people who knew Eskel, gaped at the heat in his words. The murder in them. They might have expected this from Yennefer, or Lambert. But not from Eskel.</p><p>“I’m not! But you have to unbind my hands,” begged Stregobor.</p><p>“I don’t believe you,” breathed Jaskier. He <em>couldn’t</em> believe him. If he believed him, and he was lying, Jaskier didn’t know how he would recover. Anyway, how would that even be possible?</p><p>“If you don’t believe me, take off my ruby ring.”</p><p>Jaskier didn’t wait for anyone else’s approval. He handed Eskel’s sword back to him. Then he rolled Stregobor onto his side and scrambled to reach his hands. He slid a ring from the mage’s finger and held it up.</p><p>The mage kept rambling, glancing nervously at Eskel’s boot, which was still by his ear, and capable of smashing his head like a grape. “I didn’t kill her. I would never. I loved her. I just...turned her into a ruby.” He talked so fast the words ran together. “That is merely kidnapping. Not murder. I don’t belong on the gallows. And killing me would be murder.”</p><p>Jaskier handed the ring to Yennefer. She held up the ring to the light.</p><p>“Only my magic can change her back. You have to unshackle me,” Stregobor insisted.</p><p>Yennefer closed her hand around the stone and breathed. She was silent and so was everyone else. Jaskier thought he must have breathed too, but it didn’t feel like it. It felt like time itself froze as he watched her smooth forehead pull into a wrinkle in concentration.</p><p>“He’s telling the truth,” she finally said.</p><p>Jaskier exhaled. “How?” It rasped from his throat.</p><p>“Mages can transmogrify.”</p><p>“Can—“</p><p>“Change another mage into an object. Someone changed me into a jade statue once. It was for weeks, and I was exhausted. Drained. Ill. I have no idea what close to ten years would do to someone.” She cut her eyes at Stregobor. “Gods you are flaming excrement, Stregobor. You claim to love her.”</p><p>“I do! I love her! I have kept her near me ever since.”</p><p>“As an object. Because that is what we are to you,” hissed Yennefer.</p><p>Triss cut in. “Let me guess. When she found out who you really are, she was going to leave you.”</p><p>“Someone please!” shouted Jaskier. “If my mother is in that...”</p><p>“<em>Is</em> that—“</p><p>“<em>Is</em> that ring...someone fucking do something!! Please?!” He wrung his hands.</p><p>“Yen, please,” urged Eskel. “Let’s see if it’s true.”</p><p>Yennefer unshackled Stregobor and placed the ring in his hands. “Don’t try anything stupid.”</p><p>“Of course not. You’ll all see. I’m no murderer.” Stregobor sat up, groaning theatrically and murmuring a spell.</p><p>The ruby floated from his hands. It grew and hovered red. It released itself from Stregobor, taking on a life and magic of its own. Stregobor dropped his hands. With so many people distracted, enraptured by the red glow, the mage made another move to escape.</p><p>But only one whispered syllable of one word of a spell escaped his lips before Eskel’s fist connected with his jaw and three witcher blades pointed at his neck.</p><p>During the chaos, they had all come to stand at each other’s sides as usual. Geralt, Lambert, and Coen all stood ready in their wolf gear. Aiden stood to Lambert’s side, his hand also on his hilt in case he was called upon to aid Kaer Morhen. Their faces were grim and they were ready to do anything it took.</p><p>This was the second time he had been utterly defeated by simple witchers. The commotion didn’t so much as draw a glance from Jaskier, or anyone else watching the ruby. The possibility that Tissaia de Vries might just materialize, was enough to distract them from the mage being punched. And the ones that noticed, didn’t care.</p><p>“Don’t make me kill you in front of your daughter,” hissed Eskel quietly. “I don’t want to carry that. But I will if I have to. Just give me an excuse.” He looked at Geralt. “Put the cuffs back on him. Throw him in the dungeon. We’ll deal with him tomorrow. And if this fucker twitches wrong, put him down.”</p><p>Geralt snapped the cuffs back on, and with Coen’s help, yanked Stregobor up on either side.</p><p>The ruby hovering above the stage was amorphous but growing. No one even noticed the mage being spirited away, least of all Jaskier, who watched the thing, hope hovering in his chest just like the ruby.</p><p>It lowered to the stage and somehow, sucked together into a solid form. The golden band clattered to the stage, now with an empty setting. After ten long years, the crumpled form of Tissaia de Vries lay on the ground. She wore the exact same dress from her message. It swirled and draped around her inert body.</p><p>It was like she had been trapped in amber and preserved. Or as though she had traveled through time. She lay in a fetal position, her eyes closed. Her skin was peaked and too dewy. Her lips were dry and drained of color.</p><p>“Mom! Mom!” The words were wrenched from his throat. He collapsed beside her, gathering her to him and burying his face in her neck. Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut, but the tears flowed unabated.</p><p>He thought he had forgotten. But as he clutched her, all the moments came fluttering back...all the banal moments that had turned out to be the ones that mattered. Being instructed, cared for, embraced. He was a child again. He was whole and safe again.</p><p>The enchantresses closed a protective circle around him and Tissaia de Vries.</p><p>Jaskier placed his fingers on her wrist and sobbed again when he felt her life force valiantly pulsating. He touched her face to assure himself that she was real. He placed his fingers under her nose to feel her miraculous breath puffing onto them. He rejoiced. His tears dripped onto her hair as he whispered “mom, mom, you're here,” like a chant.</p><p>Eskel slipped through the circle of sorceresses and knelt next to Jaskier. When he felt Eskel’s hand on his shoulder blades, he whipped around.</p><p>“My mom. She’s my mom.”</p><p>His hair was damp and catching on his tears. Eskel swiped a finger through his bangs to clear them away from his eyes. He kissed a tear slipping from Jaskier’s eyes. “I know, love. I know. I’m so happy for you.”</p><p>Essi also joined them and put a hand on Jaskier’s back. “Oh Julek. Oh Julek. Your mommy.”</p><p>Yennefer leaned in, patient but urgent. “I’m sorry, but I must interrupt. She has been shaped like that trinket for years. She needs treatment and care. We will provide that. But we need to provide it soon.”</p><p>Vesemir tried to move past them to get closer, but Yennefer took control.</p><p>“Please. She cannot embrace anyone. She cannot answer your questions. She is unconscious. She needs rest and treatment, and the sooner we can begin, the more likely she will make a full recovery. We will take her to Aretuza where we have all of the supplies we need.”</p><p>Jaskier heard her words and looked up at the sorceress. “No you won’t. You have everything you need here, or you can portal it in. She’s not leaving my sight. You will help her here.”</p><p>He had never instructed a powerful sorceress in her own business. But this was his business. This was his mother. And he wasn’t the master of Kaer Morhen but he had been chosen by Eskel of Kaer Morhen. He had faith that he belonged here now properly and that meant his mother did too.</p><p>Yennefer looked meaningfully around the circle of sorceresses. One by one, they nodded. “Fine. We will make do. Vesemir, can you lead us to a room?”</p><p>Vesemir seemed to come out of a trance. “We’ll take her to the empty quarters next to Eskel’s room.” He looked down at Jaskier. “Do you need help?” His voice was soft. There were unspoken words between them in the air.</p><p>Jaskier shook his head. He squatted and scooped his mother up. He couldn’t believe how tiny she was in his arms. In his childhood memories she was so tall, but he had just been small hadn’t he? Also, the power surrounding her made her a force of nature. She <em>was</em> authority. It was enough to make you forget that she was a petite slip of a woman, limbs like feathers and waist tiny and delicate. Jaskier hugged her to his chest.</p><p>Vesemir touched his shoulder and began walking ahead of him. Jaskier slowly descended the steps, following closely behind.</p><p>Jaskier had arrived at that platform with his hands buried in the fur of a wolf in a bright spotlight and with an admiring, though confused crowd.</p><p>Now he walked back past the crowd behind the master of Kaer Morhen, <em>his father</em>, with Tissaia de Vries, <em>his mother</em>, in his arms. He held his head high as he passed them, tear tracks drying on his face, clutching his mother to his breast. Eskel and Essi followed behind him. The sorceresses brought up the end of the single, regal line.</p><p>The guests watched them in excitement, trying to get a glance of the late great, and newly returned Tissaia de Vries. But none dared say a word. They could sense the gravity of the moment.</p><p>The quiet procession wound its way through Kaer Morhen, and up two flights of stairs. Vesemir pushed open the door of a cozy room on the third floor. Only Yennefer, Eskel, and Jaskier entered the small room. Everyone else waited against the hallway outside.</p><p>Jaskier laid his mother in the large, overstuffed bed with the care of a newborn. She looked like a slumbering doll, so still and quiet. He kissed her on the forehead. “I love you mom.” Eskel looked on, emotion clouding his eyes.</p><p>“Now, with all due respect,” said Yennefer  gently. “She needs care, and the sooner she gets it, the more likely she will make a full recovery with all of her cognitive functions.” Magic began to simmer in the room.</p><p>Jaskier straightened up and looked pleadingly into Yennefer’s eyes. “When will she wake up?”</p><p>“We can’t know. But I will let you know as soon as she does.”</p><p>Jaskier remembered that he wasn’t the only one who loved Tissaia de Vries.</p><p>“He will be just next door, in my room,” said Eskel, squeezing his sides. He glanced at Jaskier for an affirmation and the sparkling smile told him everything he needed to know. “So if her condition changes or she wakes up, just give a knock.”</p><p>“Of course. Now please leave,” said Yennefer.</p><p>“Thank you.” Jaskier impulsively threw his arms around Yennefer. She was slender and soft and smelled of lilac and berries. She patted his back. “You’re welcome, Jaskier.”</p><p>Jaskier distantly wondered if that was the first time she hadn’t called him <em>stableboy</em>. Eskel led him out into the hall. Essi was waiting for him, looking numb with shock, but not nearly as upset as he might have expected. He put his arm around her. “You did so well, Little Eye. I’m so fucking proud of you.”</p><p>She laughed softly. “I can’t believe I did that.”</p><p>“You did the right thing.”</p><p>She nodded and snuggled into his shoulder. “I love you.”</p><p>“I love you too.”</p><p>They were interrupted when Yennefer poked her head out the door to summon the rest of the sorceresses to help with Tissaia. She barked orders at a few of them to retrieve necessary items. Triss, however, demurred. She had appointed herself Essi’s informal caretaker.</p><p>“Essi, dear, are you tired? Do you want to stay in my room tonight? I’m going to turn in, and you need to get some rest. We’ll sort everything else out tomorrow.”</p><p>Essi nodded gratefully. Now that Triss had mentioned her getting rest, Jaskier noticed that her eyes were drooping and her shoulders flagging. “Yes, please.” She hugged Jaskier again. “I’m so happy for you Julek. Come get me in the morning and tell me what we’re gonna do now. With my dad. With our house. With us.”</p><p>“I will, love. Everything is going to be alright.”</p><p>“I know,” she said with a small smile.</p><p>Then Triss took her hand and led her away. Jaskier watched them go feeling peace in his heart that his sister would be safe.</p><p>The last person in the hall other than Eskel and Jaskier, was Vesemir. The witcher lurched for Jaskier, emotional and unsteady. He hugged him tight.</p><p>“My son,” he whispered into his ear. “Right in front of me this whole time.”</p><p>No single embrace could make up for lost time. No single embrace could express what they felt. But it would be the first of many. He held Jaskier at shoulder length and looked into his eyes, fingers just this side of too tight on his arm. Vesemir seemed like he was making a mighty effort to keep his breathing steady.</p><p>Jaskier, usually so verbose, had no idea what to say. This was not a moment one could be properly prepared for. He felt like a pauper who had been given a dragon’s lair of gold. He felt like a man, starving in the desert, who had been led to a banquet. He felt like an orphan, who’s parents had suddenly sprung back to life.</p><p>Well, that is what he was.</p><p>Thankfully, Vesemir didn’t expect him to be eloquent. He continued filling the space with his own words. “There is so much I want to say to you. So much I need to explain. But it is late. We are all tired. Please,” he looked at Eskel, “take care of my son. Make sure he gets his rest. And we will all talk in the morning.”</p><p>Eskel’s eyes sparkled and he rested a finger on the waistband of Jaskier’s trousers.</p><p>“I will be happy to.”</p><p>“Good night.” Vesemir lay a proud hand on Eskel’s shoulder.</p><p>“Good night.”</p><p>Then the old witcher disappeared down the hall.</p><p>Jaskier turned to Eskel. The witcher was like a lighthouse in a storm. A haven in a whirlwind of overwhelming emotions. He clung to him to right himself. To plant his feet back on the ground.</p><p>Eskel took his chin in his hand and pressed a kiss to his lips. Jaskier felt his entire body relax as he inhaled and kissed him back.</p><p>“Well?” said Eskel. “My chosen one? I know we aren’t married yet, and so it was a bit presumptuous--”</p><p>Jaskier tipped onto his toes, barely suppressing his eagerness. “Please. Presume. Assume. Take me, throw me over your shoulder, I am yours. Today and always.”</p><p>Eskel threw his head back and laughed. It was a rich and honeyed sound and it sent a tingling warmth through Jaskier. He pressed himself to his witcher even tighter.</p><p>“Understood.”</p><p>When Jaskier had said ‘throw me over your shoulder’ he had meant it as a figure of speech, but Eskel’s face held a mischievous grin. He dropped down and hoisted Jaskier up by his thighs.</p><p>Jaskier squeaked and laughed as his hips thumped over Eskel’s broad shoulder and he fell across his back.</p><p>“Mine,” said Eskel. “Finally, mine.”</p><p>And he carried him across the threshold.</p><p>----</p><p>That night in Kaer Morhen, as the stars shone above them, Triss slept soundly with a brave, exhausted child snuggled against her side. Color returned to Tissaia de Vries as Yennefer of Vengerberg and a small council of sorceresses infused her with nourishing magics. Vesemir lay awake, overtired and planning everything he would say to his long lost son. The rest of the witchers of Kaer Morhen sat out on the balustrades, sloshing generous amounts of ale onto their boots, singing off key, and watching the fireworks that Lambert had spent ten years designing and perfecting. The guests took in a show they would be talking about for the next decade to come. Stregobor sat, rotting in the dungeons, hissing at rats.</p><p>And the stableboy, now an official son of Kaer Morhen, was tossed onto a warm toasty bed, then gathered into the arms of his beloved.</p><p>And he never once thought about the horses.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well? What did you think?</p><p>In case you didn't notice, I added a chapter. I feel like after all of that, Jaskier and Eskel deserve a little breathing space to just be together and perhaps we do a nice little sweet sex scene next? If you all would like something like that? And maybe an epilogue?</p><p>I know it took awhile for me to write this (when I claimed from the beginning that the fic was basically done). But originally, it was going to be revealed that Stregobor killed Tissaia. But then I couldn't get the rest of the chapter to work. With that reveal, I couldn't just have Jaskier and Eskel go be happy and have a happy romantic scene. Everything felt wrong and forced when I tried.</p><p>If Jaskier had just found out that the man who raised him for his entire adolescence  (shitty though he may be) killed his mother, he would be distraught and grieving and possibly kill the man, then Essi is distraught and requires comforting, and let's be honest I would have like three more chapters of emotional recovery on my hands. XD And we're already at 50k. </p><p>So...some of this is practical lmao.  So I remembered something that happened in the books that could happen here (Yen and the jade statue) and asked Isa...would this be too perfect? Too neat and happy? And she said NO THAT IS GOOD GO FOR IT.</p><p>So you got back Ms Tissaia and I really enjoyed writing it. It's a happy ending, and that's what fairy tales are for these days.</p><p>I know there's still a lot of questions. I do have a full backstory fleshed out, so like I said, maybe I'll do an epilogue if you guys want one. Thanks for reading my dears. I'll meet you in the comments.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Happily Ever After</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This chapter is just comfort and sex. Jaskier and Eskel processing the night together, watching Lambert's fireworks show, and finally getting to the sexy part.<br/>----<br/>His body was growing extremely interested in what was happening under the warmth of the covers. He pulled his hips away from Eskel to hide the fact that his cock was responding eagerly.</p><p>In that moment, Eskel made it worse, or better, depending on the perspective, by pressing a languorous kiss to his lips. They were so full and soft that Jaskier melted under them, making an entirely undignified moaning sound. Eskel smiled against his lips.</p><p>“Shut up,” said Jaskier. “I can’t help it. Look at you.” He slid his hands up Eskel’s bare back, fingers dancing over his muscular planes.</p><p>“You don’t have to hold back,” said Eskel into his lips as he took another kiss.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome back, loves!!!  If you don't like reading explicit sex scenes, you can stop halfway through, after they come in from watching the fireworks.</p><p>If you do, please check the new tags (or take your chances) and continue!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eskel swung Jaskier down, both of them giggling wildly. Eskel immediately drew him into an embrace.</p><p>“I can’t believe that you’re really here. In my room. My chosen.” He whispered it fiercely into Jaskier’s ear. Then he pulled back, and his eyes shone with an emotion so raw, it ached to look at them. “You okay?”</p><p>Jaskier sniffled and hiccuped at the same time. He hadn't even realised he was this emotional. “Could probably use a handkerchief. Sorry—“ he wiped at Eskel’s beautiful jacket “—I may have made a mess of your lovely jacket.”</p><p>“It’s fine.” Eskel stripped himself of it, and somehow he looked even more brawny without it. The soft, thin tunic underneath was tailored to skim his form like a second skin, hugging his broad shoulders and chest. "Sit.” He nodded at the bed. “Take your shoes off. I’ll get you something.”</p><p>Jaskier slid off his shoes and plopped down onto the bed. He stared into the middle distance, lost in thought, until he felt Eskel press a cloth into his hands. He wiped his face and blew his nose, and dropped it into a basket. Then Eskel held out an earthenware cup and watched him gulp it gratefully.</p><p>“How’re you doing?” Eskel asked, concern knitting his brow. He took the cup from Jaskier and set it aside. He plopped onto the bed next to him. Jaskier felt the mattress dip with Eskel’s welcome presence at his side. His heart fluttered, reminding him that he was in the private chambers of the man he had yearned for since he was a sapling of a youth.</p><p>“I’m well,” he croaked.</p><p>“More water?” Eskel asked. He rubbed a hand up and down Jaskier’s thigh as if to settle him. Jaskier’s body reacted to his touch and he breathed to cool himself.</p><p>“No, thank you.” Jaskier rubbed his hands together where they rested between his thighs, which were splayed open. “I’m just a bit overwhelmed.” It was an understatement. The tide of complicated feelings buffeting him was more of a tsunami.</p><p>Eskel reached for his hand. “Anyone would be. You got your mother back from the dead, for fuck’s sake.”</p><p>Jaskier laced their fingers together and focused on the contact between them to ground himself. “I’ve always dreamed of it, you know,” he said. “Her showing back up in my life as though nothing happened.”</p><p>Jaskier brought back the feeling of seeing his mother lying on the ground like a rumpled angel. It had been so shocking. So singular. The only other moment he could compare it to, was the time he first laid eyes upon the sea. He remembered walking close enough to the ridge to see blue, his eyes catching on the horizon where the waves evolved into the gray misty sky, unable to grasp the enormity of it. A brand new feeling had blossomed in his chest. A new kind of wonder. There was no way he could describe it. “Feels like a miracle,” he said instead. “One I’m not convinced I’ve earned.”</p><p>“You don’t earn miracles. Otherwise they wouldn’t be called miracles.”</p><p>“You’re right. And I am grateful. Overjoyed.” He paused and then decided to tell Eskel the whole truth. “But it’s complicated. I’m also angry. Fucking furious, really.”</p><p>He rubbed his eyes with his free hand, blinking and shaking his head. He always felt hot and puffy after he cried. And he had never cried like <em>that </em>before, when he had realized his mother was alive<em>.</em> Eskel sat quietly, listening patiently.</p><p>“Stregobor...he fucking took her from me. Told me she was dead.” His voice cut off sharply. He pulled a deep breath then exhaled, controlled and gradual. He stared intensely ahead, lost in his own blazing thoughts.</p><p>Eskel squeezed his hand. “Hey.”</p><p>Jaskier focused back on his body, the reality around him. He turned to Eskel, and his kind eyes anchored him.</p><p>“She’ll recover. And he won’t get away with it,” Eskel assured him.</p><p>“What did you do with him? I didn’t see.”</p><p>“Dungeons.”</p><p>“Ah. Good. Thank you.”</p><p>Eskel nodded once.</p><p>“What happens next?” asked Jaskier.</p><p>“You don’t have to worry about that. Between the witcher, the Lodge, and your mother, he’ll face his consequences. I can promise you that. I wouldn’t want to be where he is right now.”</p><p>“Why is that?”</p><p>Eskel leaned against him, shoulder pressing into his, solid and stabilizing. “She is your mother. She was probably strict but protective and loving.”</p><p>Jaskier nodded in agreement.</p><p>“But to everyone else? Tissaia de Vries is fucking scary.”</p><p>Jaskier smiled. His chest expanded with pride. “She is?”</p><p>“Yes. She is the most powerful sorceress on the continent.”</p><p>“She is?” Jaskier repeated.</p><p>Eskel tilted his head in confirmation. “She is. Shit, I was always afraid of your mother. And this...it goes beyond even that. I don’t know much about mothers in general, but I do know they are the most dangerous creatures in the natural world. And I imagine she won’t be pleased with him.”</p><p>Jaskier’s thoughts had been so crowded, he hadn’t even thought of that yet.</p><p>He was pulled out of a reverie again by Eskel’s voice and the touch of his hand. “Hey. Everything's gonna be fine. You have all of us. The witchers. The Lodge. Essi.”</p><p>“Essi,” Jaskier said thoughtfully. “I thought she was going to kill him for a second.”</p><p>“She loves you. She is willing to do what it takes to protect you. So am I.”</p><p>A new well of gratitude opened up in Jaskier. Eskel had always been a true friend. But because Jaskier had always been hiding something from him, there had always been a type of invisible barrier between them. But now, sitting in Eskel’s room, all secrets revealed, he felt closer to him than ever.</p><p>“Thank you.” He dropped his head down on Eskel’s shoulder. It was so sturdy, but so soft. His eyes fluttered closed. Eskel kissed the top of his head. “I’ll be fine,” said Jaskier. “Whatever happens with Stregobor, I’ll be fine. Kaer Morhen was more of a home to me that he was. Sometimes the reason I slept in the stables was because I didn’t want to leave it.”</p><p>Eskel winced in sympathy. “I hated finding out in the morning,” he said softly. “That you’d been out there freezing all night. You could have stayed in here.”</p><p>“I didn’t realize.”</p><p>“You belonged to us long before all of this.”</p><p>“I know that now. And even more so now.” Jaskier laughed airly. “I am a son of Kaer Morhen. With Vesemir....” Jaskier began to think about Vesemir, about the news of his parentage, but his mind snapped back closed. Despite it being joyful news, it was all simply too much to grasp at once. It was surreal. “<em>Fuck</em>,” he whispered.</p><p>The distant but distinct pop of a firework sounded. With a childish instinct, he straightened, face lighting in delight.</p><p>Eskel laughed. He let go of his hand and wrapped his arm around him instead. “You don’t have to solve everything right now. Why don’t we watch Lambert’s fireworks? I have a balcony.”</p><p>“Good idea,” said Jaskier. He decided to work through the implication of Vesemir and his parentage some time in the future. Tomorrow perhaps. “If I think about any of this another moment, my brain will melt out of my ears.”</p><p>“We don’t want that,” Eskel said, with an affectionate nudge.</p><p>There was a bench on the balcony. Jaskier and Eskel huddled together on it, wrapped in the quilts and blankets.</p><p>The pops of the fireworks returned, two and three at a time. The sky was almost pitch dark, and the brilliance of the fireworks made it seem darker. Jaskier had seen smaller fireworks. Simpler ones that looked like fountains or that shot straight up then fell in curves like branches of a willow tree.</p><p>These fireworks began something like that. They zipped up and darted back down. They popped and fizzed as they chased gravity back to earth. It was exciting. But sitting next to Eskel, bundled up with him, doing something romantic with him, was even more exciting.</p><p>The fireworks grew more complex. Jaskier and Eskel watched them with a growing focus and awe. The explosions weaved in multiple colors and transformed into recognizable shapes. First, they were simple, like stars or the moon. But they steadily grew more elaborate.</p><p>“Lambert designed all of this?” asked Jaskier, nuzzling closer to Eskel, so that more of him was pressed to more of the witcher.</p><p>“Yes. He works on it year-round.”</p><p>“It’s spectacular. The way the drama builds? I think he missed his calling in the arts.”</p><p>Eskel chuckled. “Maybe. But this is perfect for him. Explosives and a show.”</p><p>Jaskier wiggled to pull himself further into the blankets. His toes and fingers were starting to grow cold. Eskel noticed and wrapped him in a quilt as though he were a pastry.</p><p>Eskel pulled him close, and he could hear each time the witcher reacted to the display with hitched breaths and sighs of wonder. His rebellious mind grabbed onto images of drawing similar noises from Eskel with his lips, or his body. Jaskier stole glances to watch the explosions illuminate Eskel’s face in green, then red, then blue.</p><p>Sometimes he caught Eskel watching him. He would smile or gather his courage and wink rakishly, earning himself a crooked smile. This is what it would be like, being with Eskel for the rest of his life. Sitting next to him in Kaer Morhen, taking in the latest handiwork of his brothers. Being wrapped in his arms.</p><p>He would take every single day like this that he could cram into his life.</p><p>More fireworks popped into the sky. They were the shapes of animals now.</p><p>“He made one for each of the witcher schools choosing in the ceremony tonight,” said Eskel, undeniable pride in his voice. “He’ll save ours for last though.”</p><p>Jaskier remembered the names on the invitation and watched as a large cat took form, fangs sparking in white. Then a viper, scales glimmering green. A menagerie of animals popped and sparkled to life, leaving behind a pleasant smoke smell.</p><p>Then there was a dramatic pause.</p><p>“Ooooo,” cooed Jaskier in anticipation. “Here it comes.”</p><p>A shower of white sparks exploded high above and cascaded down in the shape of a magnificent wolf. Jaskier forgot all about the cold. He arose from the bench as though he were enchanted, the blankets falling around him, the lights of the wolf flickering in his eyes like a candle. For the first time, he understood that the wolf was for him, too. He wasn’t a witcher, but he belonged to them. He always had.</p><p>“Wowwwwwww!!” he breathed, and he turned his face towards the light and smoke, inhaling it in.</p><p>He heard the distant delighted shouts of the guests in the courtyard and the raucous cheers of the other witchers and their chosen partners several balustrades over. He glanced at Eskel, and saw that Eskel was not looking at the fireworks anymore. He was looking at him.</p><p>The last of the lights extinguished and the smoke remnants billowed, settling on the grounds of Kaer Morhen. It was a triumph. An unqualified success. Applause and cheers broke out across the courtyard and issued from every balustrade facing the moat. Eskel stood next to him now, and he slid a hand around his waist. His fingers poked under his waistband. Jaskier’s heart sped up at the feeling of his warm fingers against his bare skin.</p><p>“Let’s go in. I’ll start a fire,” said Eskel.</p><p>Back inside, Eskel threw Igni to get the fire going. Jaskier’s heart fluttered, like it always did when Eskel cast one of his signs. The witcher insisted it wasn’t a big deal. It was lower magic. Functional. Practical. Limited.</p><p>But Jaskier firmly felt that magic was fucking magic. And Eskel had it flowing through him in more ways than one. Jaskier stared at his back as he stoked the fire. He openly admired how it flexed as Eskel stabbed with the poker.</p><p>Eskel stood up straight with a sigh. Then he stepped closer to Jaskier and his chest expanded, drawing in a breath. Jaskier reached out tentatively for his hand. He reveled in the softness and the roughness of it. The combination made him weak. Just like Eskel himself.</p><p>“You should just...relax now. Try to rest.” Eskel threaded their fingers together. His rumbling, husky voice was like kindling.</p><p>Jaskier grew warm, picturing Eskel settling him with his hands, bringing him into focus with his lips. He could think of several ways the witcher could help him shut off his thoughts and relax.</p><p>Jaskier didn’t actually know how all this worked, though. He had never asked what happened after the party. He knew that the witchers were not celibate in the broader sense, but did they have sex with their chosen partners before the wedding? Was there a...ritual to all of this? Would he ruin it if he came on too strong?</p><p>Also, everyone approached sex differently, and he’d never really discussed it with Eskel. They’d had several soul-scorching kisses, but that was it.</p><p>“Do you...want me to sleep in here?” He decided to start small.</p><p>“Yes,” said Eskel quickly. “Unless--”</p><p>“I do. Want to sleep in here too,” stammered Jaskier. “There’s no ‘unless’.”</p><p>“Did-did you want me to make up a pallet on the floor?” Eskel sounded tentative. Gentle.</p><p>“Oh no--” began Jaskier.</p><p>“For me, not for you, obviously,” Eskel hastened to add.</p><p>The impending notion of them sleeping together seemed to summon a giddy nervousness to the air around them. It was slightly awkward. But somehow that was completely fine.</p><p>It was to be expected. They’d never been alone in a private room before. And Jaskier couldn't have asked for a better opportunity to get closer to him. The fire Eskel built would cut into the cold, but it was still chilly and called for cuddling under covers.</p><p>“Let me get you something to sleep in first,” offered Eskel. He rooted around in a dresser, then pressed a few folded linen garments in his hands. When Eskel reached for his own tunic to strip it off, Jaskier decided to test the waters.</p><p>“Want me to turn around? I don’t have to look.”</p><p>Eskel grimaced but it was an easy going one. He shrugged. “May as well not. We’re in the trial period. You should see what you’re getting into.”</p><p>“The...trial period?”</p><p>Eskel smiled and looked at a spot above his shoulder. It was sweet but squeezed with a quiet vulnerability. “You can...try it out, and see if you change your mind.”</p><p>Jaskier stood still for a moment, thinking. He almost dropped his clothing. “Eskel, I don’t need to try anything out. I know what I like. I’ve pined for you for years.”</p><p>“You haven’t...seen everything. What’s under here--” he nodded down to his body,” --is just more of this.” Eskel pointed to the mass of scars on his cheek.</p><p>Jaskier’s mouth dropped open. He stammered. “I love that though. I love...you. I mean when you love someone, there’s nothing of a physical nature that isn’t beautiful. Because it's a part of them. It’s a part of you.”</p><p>“It’s not just that. You’ll find out if I satisfy you.”</p><p>Jaskier sputtered again. “You will satisfy me because it is you. And if we---when we--have sex, I’ll ask for what I want. And we’ll talk and come to agreeable...agreements. That’s the way it’s done. Nothing will change the fact that I want you.”</p><p>Eskel’s shoulders relaxed, and Jaskier felt guilty that he hadn’t even realized that they had been tense.</p><p>Eskel rubbed his cheeks like he did when he was nervous. “You can’t blame me. You’re so young and beautiful. And charming. You could’ve had anyone.”</p><p>“Eskel!” Jaskier sounded like he was chiding him. “We were just at a masquerade, and women were lining up just to dance with you.”</p><p>“They only care about what I am. Not who I am. You know that.”</p><p>“Well, you know that’s not true with me.”</p><p>“I do.”</p><p>“And I think you’re gorgeous. And I’m going to stand right here and watch you unwrap every beautiful part.”</p><p>Eskel’s face split into a grin. Under Jaskier’s careful, watchful gaze he slid off his tunic and his trousers. And he stood, broad and strong. Soft and thick. Scarred. Furry in all the right places. Only in his underclothes.</p><p>Jaskier gasped. “Please get into bed with me. Just like that. Don’t put anything else on.”</p><p>“Alright. But aren’t you going to get comfortable?”</p><p>Jaskier, not wanting to delay his hands finding their place on Eskel’s body, stripped off his clothing so quickly, he tripped on the leg of his trousers and pitched forward.</p><p>Eskel’s reflexes were fast and reliable and he was there in a flash, catching him in his arms. Jaskier cackled helplessly and Eskel laughed too. Jaskier noticed Eskel’s gaze sweep over him from head to toe with excitement, like he was getting away with something he shouldn’t.</p><p>“Fuck,” Eskel uttered.</p><p>Jaskier went ahead and preened. Why not? His witcher was looking upon him as though he were incredibly pleasing. And all of the muscular definition he gained by tossing hay bales and riding horses should be good for something other than function.</p><p>Eskel slid his fingers down Jaskier’s thick chest hair and followed the trail down to his hips, where he grasped Jaskier. Eskel swallowed hard. “Let’s go to bed.”</p><p>They climbed up and burrowed under the covers. They instantly luxuriated in the warmth and bare skin of each other’s bodies. Jaskier slotted his legs in between Eskel’s and dove into his embrace.</p><p>They had never been so close. Never so bare. Jaskier nestled his face in the luxurious squish of Eskel’s chest. He wrapped his arms around his soft waist.</p><p>“Comfortable?” asked Eskel.</p><p>“The most.” Jaskier wasn’t just comfortable though. His body was also growing extremely interested in what was happening under the warmth of the covers. He pulled his hips away from Eskel to hide the fact that his cock was responding eagerly.</p><p>In that moment, Eskel made it worse, or better, depending on the perspective, by pressing a languorous kiss to his lips. They were so full and soft that Jaskier melted under them, making an entirely undignified moaning sound. Eskel smiled against his lips.</p><p>“Shut up,” said Jaskier. “I can’t help it. Look at you.” He slid his hands up Eskel’s bare back, fingers dancing over his muscular planes.</p><p>“You don’t have to hold back,” said Eskel into his lips as he took another kiss.</p><p>“Really?” Jaskier asked. His stomach fluttered. He was really going to get everything tonight. Eskel’s body, his lips, everything that he had always yearned for was his to touch.</p><p>“Really.”</p><p>Jaskier decided to be daring. If he had freedom to do so, he wasn’t going to hesitate any longer. He slid a hand down lower beneath the covers. He gasped as it landed on Eskel’s cock over his underclothes.</p><p>There was no other way to say it. It was massive.</p><p>Eskel cringed softly. “Yeah, it’s a lot.”</p><p>Jaskier laughed, sharp and almost choking. “You think this is a bad thing?” He looked incredulously at the witcher.</p><p>He slid his hand under the fabric, nudging it down. When his fingers touched the bare skin of his shaft, Eskel hissed and his hips jerked forward. He grabbed Jaskier’s wrist to hold it. The feeling of his wrist being held firmly just made Jaskier harder.</p><p>Eskel breathed. Then he spoke and tried to sound calm. “People always joke about how great it is to have a big cock. But I have found in actual practice, there is a limit.”</p><p>Jaskier licked his lips. “It’s perfect. Gorgeous. Just like the rest of you. Now, let me touch it.”</p><p>“I don’t have to...” Eskel cleared his throat, and looked carefully into his eyes. “You don’t have to...<em>take</em> it. I’m used to it. No one has taken me in a very long time for that reason. I would rather finish myself than hurt you. You know that, right? There are so many other things we can do. ”</p><p>Jaskier gasped in horror, the thought alone an offense to his sensibilities. “Oh no. Absolutely not. You are mine. This is mine. I’m taking it. Come hell or high water.”</p><p>Eskel huffed out a laugh and freed Jaskier’s wrist. Jaskier slid his hand down, palming Eskel’s erection. He could barely get his fingers around it and his mouth reflexively watered.</p><p>“Fuck. Fuck. This is my lucky day. Life. Lucky life,” muttered Jaskier. He dove under the covers and slid down Eskel’s body, catching the head of his cock between his lips.</p><p>Eskel squirmed under his tongue and made the most arousing noises. Jaskier sucked and rutted against him, deciding that if Eskel was his, he would touch him everywhere. He would taste everything.</p><p>He slid both of their underclothes off and he worked Eskel into a quivering mess, precum slicking his head, saliva glistening from tip to root. Then he crawled back up Eskel’s body, the cool of the air greeting him, and looked into his eyes.</p><p>“Don’t go easy on me. Please. I can take whatever you can give me.”</p><p>Eskel was alight now with lust, his limbs taut and his eyes blazing. A growl rumbled from his throat and he rolled over, grabbing Jaskier by the waist and throwing him onto his back with one fluid motion.</p><p>Jaskier worked for a living. He was strong. He was tall and lean and had a strong back that helped him lift calves and build sheds. But the brawny strength of a witcher dwarfed even his. He thrilled at the feeling of being tossed down onto the bed and bouncing back up with a squeak against his witcher’s chest.</p><p>Eskel rested one hand gently on Jaskier’s neck and captured another kiss. “Are you sure?” he asked. His hand still rested delicately on Jaskier’s throat.</p><p>Jaskier whined and wiggled, suddenly sharply aware of his own aching cock. “I’m begging you.”</p><p>“I don’t hear you begging.” Eskel’s eyes glittered a challenge.</p><p>“Please, Eskel. Please,” breathed Jaskier. “Show me why you chose me. Show me what you’ve always wanted to do to me, every time you stood at the stable door, watching me dance.”</p><p>“Hold back your knees.” The growling command sizzled through him. His knees bent obediently, practically of their own accord.</p><p>Eskel’s hands trapped his thighs against his chest and he ducked down. Jaskier craned to see, but his eyes just rolled back helplessly when the tip of Eskel’s tongue touched his hole.</p><p>For a second, he worried that he wouldn’t be pleasing enough. He had danced, he was sweaty. But Eskel moaned against him and slid his tongue hungrily. His enthusiasm was undeniable.</p><p>Other times men had prepared Jaskier, it was in the dark, and they did it with one hand while kissing him. Or it was businesslike and perfunctory. But Eskel was brazen. He pressed in his tongue, kissed him as though he were kissing his lips. He found a jar of slick, then worked him with his fingers.</p><p>Eskel sat, bracketed between his legs, watching carefully as Jaskier trembled and opened for him. Dragging his fingers out and watching them disappear again. He found a jar of slick and probably used the entire thing pressing finger after finger into Jaskier’s greedy body until he was soft and slick.</p><p>“Fuck, look at you. So hungry for me.”</p><p>Jaskier had never felt so naked. So exposed. So seen. Every nerve felt alight with need. He clutched at his thighs to keep them in place and trembled. “I’m ready, I’m ready.”</p><p>He had also never felt so empty. So in need of being filled. His eyes flicked down to Eskel’s straining cock, dark with arousal.</p><p>“Determined, are you?” Eskel’s voice was thick with lust and just a hint of amusement. He gently detached Jaskier’s hands from his own thighs, where half moon marks stood out in rows.</p><p>“I am,” said Jaskier. He whimpered when Eskel withdrew. “Please. Make me yours. Like this.”</p><p>Eskel dropped down, bracketing his head with his elbows. His voice grew soft. “You do it. You need to control it this first time.”</p><p>Jaskier wiggled down to line himself up. When he grasped Eskel’s shaft, the witcher’s eyes fluttered closed and he groaned. “I haven’t actually...done this in a while. Most people don't want to try.”</p><p>Jaskier took it as a challenge and sunk down, catching the head of Eskel’s cock on his rim and popping it in. Eskel’s head dropped down onto his shoulder and he let out a relieved moan. It was a tight fit, and no mistake. But let no one say that Jaskier lacked determination.</p><p>He bounced and nudged and used Eskel’s chest for leverage. When he thought he had taken everything, Eskel’s shoved up, seating him all the way. The noise he made couldn’t be translated. Being this full couldn’t be described. The entirety of his vision and comprehension of reality was focused on one thing, being full of Eskel. He stilled and breathed until he felt his body become lax.</p><p>“Take me, Eskel. I mean it. I’m yours. You won’t hurt me.”</p><p>Eskel whined and hooked Jaskier’s legs in his arms and began to pull out, dragging a delicious sensation from his body. Then he slid back in, incredibly slow, watching Jaskier’s face drop into a shocked, blissful expression.</p><p>“That ok, love?” His voice was husky and uneven, but Jaskier understood. </p><p>“Please. More. Let go.”</p><p>Eskel let go. Jaskier was practically bent in half, body jumping with every thrust. The bed creaked and complained, but they didn’t notice. Eskel was overcome, feral, focused entirely on Jaskier. On taking him. On fucking him senseless. But his eyes never stopped watching Jaskier’s expression, never stopped making sure he was experiencing pleasure, and not pain.</p><p>Jaskier bounced like a ragdoll and his fingers scrabbled for purchase anywhere he could find to grasp.</p><p>When Eskel came it was with a shout of Jaskier’s name, his body sheened with sweat. Still pressed deep into Jaskier, he took his cock and it wasn’t long before Jaskier was spiling in his hand, seeing black in the corner of his vision.</p><p>It had been a long time coming and it would be impossible to measure the catharsis of finally possessing each other. They panted, sticky and sweaty into each other’s lips. Tears streaked their faces, even though neither had noticed ever shedding a tear.</p><p>Jaskier was once again reminded that falling in love with Eskel was the best thing he’d ever done, when the witcher gently cleaned him off with a towel, kissing him tenderly on each hip and each thigh as he did so.</p><p>“How are you, love? Are you alright?” he asked Jaskier.</p><p>“I’m fantastic.”</p><p>“You aren’t hurt?”</p><p>“I’ll be sore. But not hurt.” Jaskier wiggled a little to make sure. Yes. He was fine.</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“Eskel?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Thank you for choosing me.”</p><p>“I don’t even know what to say to that. Pretty sure I’m the one benefitting.”</p><p>“It’s best that we both think that we are the lucky one.”</p><p>Eskel chuckled. “Probably right.” He put away the towel and padded back to the bed where they snuggled back into each other’s arms. “I love you, Jaskier,” Eskel said sleepily, nosing into his ear.</p><p>“I love you too, Eskel.”</p><p>And they fell asleep. Never to be parted again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AHHHH;SKIHFHD;K I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS FIC IS COMING TO AN END. Thank you so much for coming with me (and Isa) on this journey.</p><p>I had the best time letting Eskel be the equivalent of the handsome prince that he deserves to be, and exploring a different version of Jaskier as I imagined him in this AU. I have also never written a fairytale AU and hopefully I pulled that off.</p><p>I also enjoyed thinking about what it would be like at Kaer Morhen if they opened up to the world. It was really a joy to write.</p><p>If you'd like a bonus epilogue with some familial unifications, let me know in the comments, then subscribe, so you don't miss it. I need to update my other WIPs first, so I'd have to come back to it, but I'm happy to do it if you'd like me to. It will just be a little while.</p><p>Thanks again!!! ahhhhh I can't believe I'm about to hit 'post'.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's how this fic came about:</p><p>To celebrate reaching 200 subscribers on AO3 in November I gave away a gift fic. Dovabunny won, and gave me such a wonderful Jaskel concept. In the giveaway I said it would be &lt;5000 words but I just loved the concept SO MUCH that I went hog wild with it. Thank you my dear for the wonderful, imaginative idea and for giving me so much beta feedback and brainstorming help. It was a blast working with you on this. You were patient and supportive and positive and I really appreciate you!! And thank you for coming up with a great title!!! Also, I am now in love with stableboy Jaskier. </p><p>And thanks readers for coming along with us on this little rarepair journey. If you enjoy, I have other Jaskel, such as 'Eskel is Magic' and 'Uncommon'.</p><p>If you are interested in other stories, consider<br/><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descarada/profile">subscribing to me</a> so you don't miss updates!</p><p>Also, if you'd like to find me on socials (send me a prompt, and ask, whatever, I'm v chatty):</p><p>Twitter:  <a href="https://twitter.com/BuffySummers10">buffysummers10</a></p><p>Tumblr:  <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fangirleaconmigo">fangirleaconmigo</a><br/>ETA: Thank you Rita for your copy edits.<br/><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyRita1967/works">LovelyRita1967</a> who writes sexy, sweet Geraskier (and Eskel/Lambert, and Eskel/Letho) romcoms. Check her out!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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